


The Best Part of Me (Is You)

by Eddie_KaspbrakTozier



Series: It Was Always You [6]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Body Positive, Boys In Love, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Weddings, fatphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27428785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eddie_KaspbrakTozier/pseuds/Eddie_KaspbrakTozier
Summary: Richie’s life is filled with thoughts of love - he’s got a ring for Eddie and The Losers are about to attend Ben & Bev’s wedding. But Richie is also plagued by doubts. Will he win his two Emmy nominations? Will Eddie accept his proposal? Has he gotten fat!?All these negative thoughts threaten to put a damper on the Losers reunion, but luckily Eddie is there to help.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: It Was Always You [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551535
Comments: 31
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Friends! This is part six of my multi-part series "It Was Always You." 
> 
> As a quick recap - Eddie survived the fight with Pennywise. Eddie & Richie figured their shit out. Eddie is now living with Richie in Los Angeles. They've been together for almost two and a half years. Also, the OC character, Liam, is Richie's manager after he dumped Steve's homophobic ass.
> 
> Title based on The Best Part of Me (Is You) by Ed Sheeran feat. Yebba: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U1_0b7CkucA

The Best Part of Me (Is You)

Chapter One

Richie’s POV

**EXT. SUBURBAN NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - NIGHT**

**Stuart turns off the car, turning to Danny.**

**STUART**

**Ok. Do we need to go over the plan again?**

**DANNY**

**No. No. I got it, man. I’m ready for this.**

**STUART**

**Are you sure? Cause you gotta be fucking sure, man. There’s no do overs for this kind of shit.**

“Rich?” a voice echoes down the hallway.

Richie’s eyes break away from his laptop. “I’m in the office, baby!” Richie yells.

Richie’s in his usual writing position on their office couch - legs propped up, crossed at the ankle, extending the length of the couch, balancing his laptop on his lap. He types away, trying to finish his script as the sound of Eddie walking down the hallway gets louder and louder until he walks into the sun-soaked office. Richie smiles, catching sight of Eddie who’s wearing his running tank top and shorts.

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling as he walks over to Richie. He sits on the edge of the couch, pushing into Richie’s side, splaying a hand on Richie’s knee. “I’m gonna go for a run, okay? I probably won’t be back before you leave, but I’ll be back in time for the guys who are delivering the pool table.”

Richie snaps his laptop shut, placing it on the side table behind his head allowing him to wrap his arms around Eddie, pulling him tight against him. “Wow, once that’s delivered we can finally call the Clubhouse done! Can you _believe it_ , baby!?” Richie says, pulsing his arm muscles, squeezing Eddie’s sides. 

Eddie lets out a breathy laugh; his smile is brilliant in the morning sun. Shifting in Richie’s arm, he runs his hands up Richie’s chest, stopping to curl them over Richie’s shoulders. “I know! We’ve been working on it since we moved in. Now when we have Bill and Audra over for movie night we won’t have to apologize for all the dust.”

“Mhm. Wanna christen the pool table tonight?” Richie asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Eddie knocks his forehead against Richie’s shoulder with a snort. Raising his head back up, he says, “That sounds uncomfortable. I mean, imagine that fabric scraping against your back? Ugh. No thank you.” He shakes his head, scrunching his nose in a way Richie finds absolutely adorable.

Overcome, Richie pulls Eddie to him, smacking a wet kiss to his cheek. “I can hold you up,” Richie whispers in Eddie’s ear, a hand roaming South to cup Eddie’s butt. “Against the edge. I mean, we need to make sure it goes with all the other furniture in the Clubhouse, right?” 

Eddie puffs a laughter against Richie’s neck. “I think we should christen the couch in the movie room before we move to the pool table, yeah?”

“Oh yeah!” Richie agrees, squeezing Eddie’s ass. “I love how you think, babydoll.”

“Mhm. Not tonight though,” Eddie says idly, twirling a lock of hair at the back of Richie’s neck. 

“Aw, why not?”

“I was thinking we could go out tonight. You know, a date night before we leave tomorrow?” Eddie leans in deeper to Richie’s side as he cocks his head, gazing at Richie wantonly. The twirling of Richie’s curls is getting longer, rougher, as Eddie twirls it around his finger, right at the root, before pulling it, the hair uncurling around his finger as it straightens out, only to bounce back when he releases it. While continuing to play with Richie’s hair, he adds, almost as an afterthought, “Although we’re going to need to go to bed early, since we have to get up early for our flight.” 

Tomorrow they’re heading to Chicago to meet up with the rest of the Losers for a momentous occasion - Ben & Bev’s wedding. Richie can’t wait to celebrate, drinking and partying into the night with all of his best friends. Not to mention he gets to bring Eddie as his date. Or he gets to go as Eddie’s date. Either way.

“You want to go on a date night _and_ go to bed early? Those two things don’t go together,” Richie chuckles, leaning his head into Eddie’s touch. He’s so content, he could purr.

“Ok, that’s fair, but let’s save the movie room couch for another night, yeah? It’s a big couch afterall. Need to make sure we cover all of it,” Eddie says with a devious smile, pulling another lock.

“ _Cover_ it?” Richie gasps, dramatically.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, realizing what he said. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like _thhaat_!”

Richie laughs, squeezing Eddie against him. “Oh my gosh, babydoll. I mean, I knew you liked it dirty, but you’re making _me_ blush over here! We’ll have to get it cleaned before we have Bill and Audra over.”

“Stoooop!” Eddie laughs before pulling Richie into a kiss, his personal ‘beep, beep’. Eddie pulls off Richie’s lips with an audible pop. “Ok, I’m going to head out. Do you think your group writing session is going to go long?”

Richie’s stomach twists into a knot. He told Eddie he had a group writing session this afternoon for a show he’s executive producing, writing, directing, and even acting in as the lead. He’s been fucking busy, to say the least. Miraculously, the pilot episode has been greenlit and is to be shot in two months right there in Los Angeles. Although, the series as a whole has yet to be greenlit. 

It’s a very exciting time for Richie - both for his career and personal life. He was recently nominated for not one, but _two_ , Emmy awards. Both for his big coming-out-of-the-closet Netflix special - “ _That’s So Gay_!” It blew up in a way he never imagined - people twitting about it constantly, getting interviewed on late night shows, getting recognized while they’re shopping at Trader Joe’s.

There’s a lot of pressure riding on his Emmy nominations. If he wins, even just one of them, his career is going to skyrocket into another plane of existence - his show will be greenlit, magazines will want him for the cover - really, his whole life will change over night. It’s a little overwhelming, actually - all this new found stardom will only grow if he wins. Although, while his career seems to be changing every day, there is one constant in his life - Eddie. 

When Richie wakes up in the morning, Eddie is there, groggy and cuddly. When Richie takes a break from his writing in the afternoon, Eddie is there, willing to take a break from gardening to go to lunch with him. When the end of the day rolls around and Richie can’t see straight from staring at his screen all day, Eddie is there, curling his arms around Richie’s chest, hooking his head over his shoulder to ask what they want to do for dinner. They’re lives are simple and domestic, but Richie’s never been so fucking happy.

“No, no. It - huh - it shouldn’t take too long. I mean, I hope it doesn’t,” Richie pathetically replies to Eddie’s question about his “group writing session.” Richie’s stomach twists itself tighter into a ball. He can’t stand lying to Eddie.

“Ok, good,” Eddie says, smiling. “You’re meeting up with Liam first, right?” 

“Yeah,” Richie sighs, his stomach releasing some tension because that part is true. “He said he had some big news for me. No idea what it could be though.” 

“Well I don’t know what could be bigger than getting nominated for _two Emmys_ ,” Eddie chuckles, looking at Richie with adoring eyes. He pulls Richie in for another kiss, his hands cupping Richie’s face. “Ok, I’m off, big guy. Have a good meeting. Let me know what Liam says, ok?” Eddie says, standing up from the couch. 

Richie blushes. “Ok. Bye, baby. Have a good run. I love you!”

“Love you too,” Eddie says, spinning back toward Richie, giving him a dazzling smile before spinning back again to head out.

As he hears Eddie leave the knot in Richie’s stomach loosens, relieved he doesn’t have to lie to Eddie anymore. He’s been barely able to keep it together this last week.

Richie stretches, his limbs shaking from the lack of movement over the last hour. Jumping up from the couch he pads into their bedroom, pulling off his ‘laying around the house’ outfit - an overworn Nirvana t-shirt and basketball shorts, which hang off his hips due to the broken - really nonexistent - elastic to jump into the shower. 

Once out, with a towel wrapped around his hips and his curls dripping, he goes to pull out an outfit he had actually _planned in advance_ for today - dark blue jeans, a crisp white button-up t-shirt, and a dark blue pinstripe blazer, along with his favorite white sneakers. It might seem a little much for the hot July summer day in Los Angeles, but Richie wants to look and feel good for his appointment. He wants to feel like he _belongs_ there.

He pulls on the dark blue jeans over his bright blue banana patterned boxers only to find them a little...tight. He wrestles with the button, trying to pull the two ends of his opened pants together. With a loud sigh, he gives up, throwing his head back in frustration, his fly gaping open. His mind whirls, trying to remember if he washed these pants recently. 

Gritting his teeth, he tries again. Only when he sucks in his belly, making it as flat as possible, does he manage to button his pants. He smiles trimpuntily only for it to fall from his face once he releases his belly. He can actually feel his belly folding over the top of his pants.

Grunting in frustration, Richie rips the pants off, grabbing another pair from the closet. This pair, unfortunately, results in the same uncomfortable situation. Again, he tries another pair - same result. 

It isn’t until there are four pairs of pants scattered across the floor that it occurs to Richie that maybe it’s not that the pants have shrunk, but that he-

Richie’s eyes catch the clock. He’s running late.

Quickly grabbing his first pair of pants, Richie slides them on, sucking in his belly to zip them up. His button-up shirt and blazer aren’t much of an improvement - the buttons on his chest are straining, the blazer strangles his shoulders. Richie ignores all of this as he runs out the door, hopping into his car. 

The car is stifling, pulsing with heat to the point where it’s almost suffocating. Flicking on the air conditioning to high Richie backs out of their three car garage. Instead of cool, refreshing air, Richie’s hit in the face with hot, dry air. He feels sweat begin to roll down his back and pool in his armpits, getting trapped in all of the places where his clothes are digging into his skin. 

At this point, Richie is simmering with anger and frustration. The car is as hot as the concrete of their driveway. This is not the way Richie wanted to start the day - a day which he’s been fretting about for weeks. Although he’s excited too. Now that it’s finally here, he’s not going to let some tight clothes and oppressive weather get him down. 

As he drives down the street he gets a good view of their new house in the rearview mirror - although “new” might not be the right word as they’ve been there for almost four months. Richie’s shoulders loosen thinking about their new home and how they got there.

Richie and Eddie’s life took an exciting turn after Eddie’s surprise visit during Richie’s tour - Eddie quit his suffocating job as a Risk Analysis and then joined Richie on tour. They traveled all over the country spending Richie’s free time sight-seeing, eating and drinking at all the best restaurants, and having endless amounts of sex. Following the end of Richie’s tour, they returned to Los Angeles on the hunt for a new home. 

For weeks, they drove around different Los Angeles neighborhoods everyday - Pasadena, Burbank, La Cañada, the Hollywood Hills. For neighborhoods that were more their style, they would take time to walk around - visit local coffee shops, lunch at restaurants, drink at bars - to get a real sense of the neighborhood and to understand the “walkability” of the area - something _very_ important to Eddie. 

The first house they fell in love with fell through before they even had a chance to make an offer, being told it was sold just as they were leaving the house from their tour. This became a recurring event, happening over and over again whenever they found the ‘one.’ 

It wasn’t until one day when they were walking through the suburban neighborhood of Toluca Lake, holding hands and sipping their respected drinks - a sugar-filled black coffee and a matcha latte - from Priscilla’s Coffee, a local coffee shop, that they found it. 

Richie was scrolling through his phone, trying to get a sense of where they were in relation to the coffee shop - one of the most important things to Richie is that a good, quick cup of coffee is only a short distance away - when Eddie stopped dead in his tracks.

Richie tripped over his feet when his arm, his hand still locked with Eddie’s, was pulled tight. “What is it, baby?” Richie said, as he walked back to Eddie. 

“Look,” Eddie said, his glaze locked across the street.

Following Eddie’s gaze Richie noticed someone hanging a “For Sale” sign in front of a gorgeous modern white two story house covered in slate gray tiles. The arched front door was a beautiful cherry wood, the archway over the door following the same curve as the door, giving the entrance a unique twist. Plant life completely surrounded the house - a large olive tree sat on the edge of the sidewalk; square, neatly trimmed bushes filled the yard; ivy cascaded down the side of the house.

Without a word, Richie pulled out his phone, dialing their real estate agent to ask for a tour; Eddie squeezed his hand as he curled into Richie’s side.

Within the hour, they were walking through the house, accompanied by their agent. The house was, for lack of a better word, perfect. The ceilings were covered in light mahogany wood which was covered in a grid work of dark wood beams. The kitchen was large - an island filled the center; a long, low bench ran along the back wall behind a dining table. Large open windows lined the wall, filling the kitchen with soft light. 

Other items on their ‘must-have’ list were quickly checked off. Large bath and walk-in shower, perfect for two, in the master bathroom - check. Multiple bedrooms for guest bedrooms and a home office - check. 

When they found out the house had a basement - a rarity in Los Angeles - they exchanged a knowing look, smirking at each other. The basement was enormous, spanning the length of the house. The walls were bare; the floor was covered in a shag carpet and there were buckets filled with kid’s toys lining the wall. While it wasn’t much, it had great potential. At this point in the tour, Eddie was beaming, his eyes sparkling with childhood hope. Richie was sweating, praying that they wouldn’t lose this one too, not wanting to see another disappointed look on Eddie’s face again.

When they walked outside, to the backyard, both Richie and Eddie gasped. Green grass covered the backyard, multiple tall trees casting it in shade. The back of the house was completely covered, practically overtaken, by ivy. Next to a large open batch of grass - perfect for Eddie’s garden - was an outdoor grill station. From the grill, large stepping stones trailed across the grass leading to a low trellis wall, in the center of which was an arched doorway relieving a massive pool. 

They walked up to the edge of the pool, only an inch from the shallow water of the beach walk-in. In the middle of the shallow water was a large umbrella, covering it in shade. From the shallow water, the bottom of the pool dipped down, going deeper and deeper until it bottomed out in the deep end. Above the deep end was a low stone wall, holding a circular hot tub which had a waterfall running into it from a low rockwall behind it.

“What do you think?” their real estate agent asked.

Richie didn’t respond. He simply looked at Eddie. 

With his eyes filled with hope and longing, Eddie locked eyes with Richie as he grabbed one of Richie’s hands with both his own. “I love it,” Eddie said simply. 

That was good enough for Richie. Entwining his fingers with Eddie, Richie turned. “We’ll take it,” he said.

And with that, they left. It wasn’t until later that night they got the good news - the house was theirs. Eddie was so ecstatic he literally jumped into Richie’s arms, screaming with excitement, twisting his arms and legs around him, smothering him in kisses. They celebrated late into the night, so much so they were both sore the next day.

The next few months were filled with cardboard boxes, wrapping paper, and numerous visits to home improvement stores, furniture stores, and gardening stores. Richie didn’t know he could have so much fun running errands.

The ping of an elevator pulls Richie from his memories. He’s arrived at Liam’s office. With a new peep in his step, Richie walks towards Liam’s office, waving at the receptionist on his way. 

“Hey, Liam!” Richie greets, knocking on the door frame to Liam’s office. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Richie says, surprised to find someone else in Liam's office. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Richie!” Liam yells, jumping up from his office couch to give Richie a hug. With his hand on Richie’s arm, he guides Richie into his office. “Rich, you’ve met John, right?”

“Yes, we’ve met many times before actually,” John says, standing up from the couch to shake Richie’s hand. “We’ve both been in the business for awhile now. Right, Richie?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s good to see you, John.” Richie’s hand is clammy, slick with sweat against John’s. Richie and John have met a number of times, through the years, at different parties and events. 

“John is joining the company!” Liam exclaims, smiling broadly as he pats John on the back. “I’m the luckiest manager in Hollywood! Representing the two best comedians of our time!” 

Richie’s stomach falls out, taken back by the news. He tries to hide his reaction by plastering a smile on his face. “That’s fantastic. Congrats, John!”

“Thanks,” John says. “Hey, I’m going to head out. I know you guys have a meeting. Talk to you soon, Liam. And it was nice seeing you, Richie. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other a lot more now.” And with that, John is gone, leaving Richie and Liam alone.

“Richie! Sit! Sit! I have such exciting news!” Liam says, sitting back down on the couch.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” Richie falls back onto the leather couch only to be reminded of his ill fitting clothes. 

“So, guess who I got off the phone with this morning?” 

“Who?” Richie twitches in his seat, trying to readjust his pants without making it too obvious. 

“Lorne Michaels!” Liams practically yells, looking at Richie expectantly.

Richie’s mind is elsewhere though. At the moment, his mind is focused on his blazer, which is digging into his armpit. He’s half convinced it might be cutting off circulation.

“Rich?”

“I’m sorry. What?” Richie shakes his head, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to adjust his blazer.

“Lorne Michaels! Of SNL! You’re on the short list for hosting! Isn’t that great!?” 

“Oh. Wow. That’s awesome. Wait, the short list?” Richie frowns, fidgeting.

“Yeah, they haven’t finalized the list yet. To be honest, I think they’re waiting for the Emmys. You know, so they can have an _Emmy award winner_ host the show. But don’t worry about that. Everyone knows you’re going to win,” Liam waves his hand like he’s batting away an annoying insect.

Richie has been hearing this phrase a lot - ‘everyone knows you’re going to win.’ At this point, he wonders where people are getting their information from, because he _doesn’t_ know if he’s going to win or not.

“Oh. Ok. So that’s it?” Richie tugs at his pant legs.

“That’s it!? My man! This is _Saturday Night Live_ we’re talking about!” 

“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, that’s it? We have to wait until the Emmy’s to find out if I’m hosting?” 

“The short answer is ‘yes,’ but don’t worry, I’ll work my magic with Lorne. We go way back.”

“Huh. Ok. Um, if you say so.” Richie feels like he’s sweating from every orifice on his body.

“Hey, buddy, you doing ok?” Liams asks, concerned. “You don’t look so good.”

“Oh. I guess...I guess I’m just nervous,” Richie chuckles dryly, trying to play off how uncomfortable he is.

“Nervous? Ooohhh,” Liam says, elongating the sound as he leans back in the couch, giving Richie the ‘I know what’s going on look.’ “Today’s the day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Heading there after this.” 

“Well, I certainly don’t want to hold you up! This is a big day for you!” Liam bounds off the couch, leaning against the doorway as he shouts down the hallway. “Hey, Michelle! Get Richie a seltzer!” He turns back to Richie, talking to him over his shoulder. “It’ll help with your nerves. Settle the stomach.” 

“Oh - huh - thanks,” Richie says, standing up from the couch just as Michelle extends a seltzer to Liam before running back to her station. Richie grabs the seltzer, brushing past Liam on his way out.

“Hey Rich!” Liam yells, causing Rich to turn back halfway down the hallway. “Just don’t overthink it, okay?” Liam says, a grin plastered on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks Liam,” Richie says, trying to pull a smile on his face. “See ya later.” 

In the elevator, Richie takes a gulp of seltzer, the fizz only managing to agitate the frantic butterflies swarming in his stomach. He groans, frustrated, as the elevator doors close on him.

/

Richie sucks desperately at the straw of his S’mores Frappuccino, trying to cool down his overheated body. His clothes are feeling partially uncomfortable as they bite into his skin. He’s sitting in a Starbucks, across the street from his afternoon appointment. In untypical Richie fashion, he arrived early, so afraid he was going to be late and miss his meeting.

As he’s licking the whip cream off his straw he feels his phone vibrate. He pulls it out, his face lighting up when he sees it’s from Eddie.

Images flash through his mind - Eddie splayed out on the table top, his butt hanging over the edge as Richie...Or, perhaps, the other way around - Richie laying on the table top, trying to grab the edge to keep himself in place as Eddie-

**_‘Your fat ass would break it.’_ **

Frappuccino spews from Richie’s mouth as he hears his internal voice. A flush spreads across Richie’s face as the thought that’s been burning in the back of his mind is finally vocalized. It’s not that his clothes have shrunken. No, he’s just gotten fat.

Although what he really wants to say is ‘ _I_ would break it.’ Thinking Eddie might be able to glean what he really means he quickly types another message.

Richie’s embarrassment dissipates. Eddie has no idea what he does to Richie sometimes.

**_'You know he doesn’t really mean that,’_ **Richie's internal voice jumps in.

Richie hisses, typing out his response to Eddie.

Richie clicks his phone, turning the screen dark as he drops it on the counter. He shoves his face in his hands, shrinking in on himself, trying to hide from his venomous internal voice.

**_‘I mean, let’s be honest. You’ve gotten pretty fat lately. Sitting around the house all day, everyday, and drinking sugary drinks like it’s your job. Why would Eddie want to go out with someone like you?’_ **

Richie groans, digging the palms of his hands into his eye sockets, trying to hold back his tears.

**_‘Even Liam knows you’re a worthless piece of shit. Why do you think he brought on what’s his face? He knows all this attention - the Netflix specials, the Emmy nominations, the pilot - is going to fizzle out and die. Just like your relationship with Eddie.’_ **

“Stop,” Richie whispers, hoping no one has noticed he’s having a breakdown.

**_‘Liam wants someone who has a career ahead of him. Someone who is young and accomplished - hosted SNL three times, has multiple Netflix specials, and is a two-time Emmy award winner. And you? You’re nothing.”_ **

Richie grits his teeth, sucking in a deep breath to keep his body from going into a full on anxiety attic in a fucking Starbucks.

**_‘It’s only a matter of time before Eddie realizes all of this, and he dumps your pathetic ass to find someone else. You actually think he’s going to want to mar-’_ **

Richie’s phone vibrates on the counter, the shrilling sound ripping through his thoughts. Wiping his misty eyes with his shirt sleeve, Richie fumbles for his phone, thankful for the interruption, to see a text from Eddie.

  


Richie sniffs, already feeling better from Eddie’s message, responding with a row of kissy faces.

**_‘It’s only a matter of time before he leaves you.’_ **

**_‘That’s not true,’_** Richie thinks, talking to himself. **_‘He loves me. Eddie loves me. Eddie loves me. Eddie loves me.’_** He mentally chants over and over again, drowning out the nasty thoughts.

Richie’s phone vibrates again. 

Letting out a wet sigh, Richie feels a burst of love blossom in his stomach, so thankful for Eddie. There are periods of time when Richie’s nasty internal voice doesn’t make an appearance, but there are other times when it decides to rear its ugly head. He’s gotten better at squashing it, but sometimes - partially when he’s anxious or stressed - it takes control, completely crushing Richie under its weight.

Keeping Eddie’s last text in mind, Richie shuffles out of the Starbucks, throwing his half empty S’mores Frappuccino into the trash as a half formed thought floats through his head - ‘ **_That went right to my fucking thighs.’_ ** The heat of the beating sun and the sloshing of his drink in his stomach brings up an unease that’s been biting at the back of his mind the whole day - well really, ever since he scheduled his appointment. 

He rings the buzzer on the nondescript building, his stomach doing somersaults. 

“Hello?” a disjointed voice says, crackling through on the speakers.

“Uuummm,” Richie drones, momentarily forgetting why he’s there. Shaking himself, Richie spits out, “Hi - huh - I’m Richie Tozier. I - huh - I have an appointment.” 

“Oh! Mr. Tozier!” the voice cracks, somehow sounding friendlier. “Come on up.” 

A loud buzz rings, allowing Richie to pull the door open. After stumbling up multiple floors Richie stops outside two unmarked frosted glass doors. Hearing another buzz, Richie enters a lavish lobby filled with lush carpet, crystal chandeliers, and quiet Jazz music.

“Hello, Mr. Tozier. It’s so very nice to meet you,” a lady says, delicately shaking his hand. “May I offer you some sparkling water or champagne?” 

Licking his lips, Richie croaks, “Water, please,” sending a prayer that it will help calm his rolling stomach. 

“Of course,” she smiles. “We’ll get that right for you. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to our main showroom.” 

She glides across the lobby, guiding him to another double set of unmarked frosted doors. His stomach drops, a giant wave of nerves assaulting his insides. He’s finally here. It’s finally happening. He’s thought about this since he was a little boy.

Large glass cases line both sides of the petite room. Small delicate items fill the cases, each shining in the sun, large diamonds and gold bands throwing rainbows across the walls. 

“So,” she says, walking behind a case full of men’s rings, “tell me about your partner-”

“Eddie,” Richie breathes, the word falling easily from his lips as he sits in a cushioned chair in front of the case. A glass of sparkling water is placed in his hand.

“Eddie,” she says, smiling. “So, tell me about Eddie.” She pulls out a lush velvet pad, placing multiple rings on its surface - a simple gold ring, a modern flat white gold ring, and a textured platinum ring. 

Richie grins, all his nerves and anxious thoughts falling away. Eddie’s always had that effect on him. Even when he’s not around Eddie helps quiet Richie’s tangled thoughts. He gives him courage and he makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. “Well, I hope I’m your last appointment for the day, cause this might take awhile.”

/

“Eddie! My love! I’m hooome!” Richie yells, throwing his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter. He haphazardly throws his blazer on the back of a chair. His shirt lands on the couch armrest. 

“Eddie! My heart! Where are you?” He calls, his voice echoing down hallways and up stairs.

“I’m out here, Rich!” Eddie’s voice rings from outside.

Richie steps out into their backyard, finding Eddie kneeling in front of his garden clad in his brimmed sun hat and working gloves. 

“Hi, baby.” Richie pads through the grass, pulling his undershirt out from his pants. “You’re not letting those nasty weeds bully you, are you?” Falling to his knees behind Eddie, he pulls Eddie back against his chest, running the tip of his nose along the curve of Eddie’s neck.

Eddie squirms in Richie’s arms. “Oh, Rich, I’m all sweaty!” 

“I like you sweaty,” Richie says, pressing light kisses up Eddie’s slick neck.

Eddie laughs, pulling Richie’s arms tighter around him. “Hey! Look at what I just pulled,” Eddie says excitedly, showing Richie two plump tomatoes. 

“Oh my, Edward! What big balls you have!” 

“Stooop!” Eddie whines, poking an elbow into Richie’s stomach. “Hey, how was your meeting with Liam?” Eddie asks, placing his prized tomatoes into a basket.

“Oh, well, what if I told you you might be dating a soon-to-be host of S-N-L!?” 

Eddie gasps, turning in Richie’s arms, his eyes shining with excitement. “No fucking way!”

“Way, baby!” Richie grins.

“Oh my god, Richie!” Eddie screams, tackling Richie to the ground. “I’m so fucking proud of you!” Eddie says, grabbing Richie’s face, diving to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. “Oh my gosh, Rich. You’ve been talking about this forever!” He dives again, kissing Richie again. Richie moans into Eddie’s mouth, more thrilled with Eddie’s reaction than the actual news. “You’re going to be so good, baby.” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s lips, quickly going back to lick inside Richie’s mouth. Eddie pulls back suddenly, leaving Richie dizzy. “Wait? Why did you say ‘might be?’ Eddie frowns in confusion.

Richie shrugs. “I’m on the waiting list. Apparently they want to wait until the Emmys or something.” 

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, relaxing. “Ok, well, you’re going to win so that’s not a big deal.”

Richie gulps, breathless at Eddie’s confidence in him. Of all the people that have shared their confidence about Richie winning, Eddie is the only person he’s worried about disappointing. 

“Right,” Richie gulps, blinking up at Eddie’s adoring face. “Right, yeah. Of course.” 

Eddie grins, laying his head on Richie’s chest. “Well, we should celebrate tonight,” Eddie says, drawing circles on Richie’s chest.

“Oh, I like the sound of this,” Richie sighs, wrapping his arms around Eddie. “So what were you thinking for tonight, baby?”

“Well, I was thinking we could go to The Americana. We could go to that dumpling place we really like-”

“Din Tai Fung?”

“Yes! That place! We can get those little soup dumplings and those dessert buns!” Eddie says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh! And we can go to that outdoor bar! Drink some cocktails before dinner?” 

Richie swoons, glad that he’s already laying on his back. Even after two and half years of dating, going out with Eddie - _dating_ Eddie - is still something that still blows Richie’s mind. The fact that they get to do actual dating things - hold hands, go to dinner, kiss in public - always leaves Richie breathless.

Richie laughs, giddy with excitement. “Oh, I love how you think, babydoll!” He wraps his arms tight around Eddie, leaning up to kiss him on the head. 

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles into Richie’s chest. “Does that sound good, big guy?” 

Richie gasps, all of his breath punched out of his lungs. Shame and embarrassment flood his senses. He wants to sink into the Earth; allow the weight of his body to pull him further and further into the dirt and bury him where no one will find him.

“What is it, Rich?” Eddie asks, confusion lacing his voice.

Richie gulps, his mind racing. “I - uh - I was just thinking maybe we could go to that other restaurant? The sushi place? We - huh - we haven’t been there in awhile.” His mind stumbles, pretty sure that sushi is a better, healthier alternative to soy sauce drenched dumplings. 

“Oh,” Eddie says, momentarily taken aback. “Ok, that sounds good.” He’s smiling now, excited by the idea.

Richie licks his lips, his racing heart easing back down. He’s still flush with embarrassment, wondering what Eddie sees when he looks at Richie’s - **_bloated, fat, grotesque_ ** \- body.

Eddie sits up, straddling Richie’s hips. “Well, how about I finish up out here, go shower, and then we can go? Yeah?” He says, gripping Richie’s shoulders as he smiles down at him.

“Ok. I can - huh - I can help you, baby,” Richie thinks that getting his body moving might get his mind off of these nasty thoughts. It also means he’ll get to spend more time with Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, “Oh no. No, no, no. I know what you’re doing, mister.”

“Whaat? What am I doing?” Richie says, feigning innocence.

Eddie laughs, the sound of it ringing through the backyard. “Oh no, you ‘helping’ with the gardening means you’re going to dig around in the dirt - maybe even flick some at me - and then you’re going to claim you're ‘dirty’ and that you need to shower with me. We’re going to out on our date, and then we’re going to come back and having mind blowing sex-”

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Richie purrs, arching his back up.

“And you’re going to be completely exhausted.”

“Yeah, I better fucking be.”

“So much so you’re going to put off packing until tomorrow morning. You’ll promise me that you’ll get up early to pack, but you won’t! And then, I’ll have to drag you out of bed and you’ll run around the house until the last minute when we have to leave to catch our flight!”

“Ok, in all seriousness though, we’re flying out of Burbank, not LAX, so it’s not like we have to get up at the asscrack of dawn or anything. I mean-”

“No!” 

“We could literally leave like an hour - 45 minutes - before our flight and we would be fine!”

“NO!” Eddie huffs, swinging his leg over Richie so he’s no longer straddling him. “It gives me fucking anxiety when you leave packing to the last minute. Please, Richie. _Please_ go pack.” Eddie says, giving his trademark puppy dog eyes.

“But I want to help you,” Richie whines, giving his own puppy dog eyes, although he already knows who’s going to win this contest.

“Ok…” Eddie says, shuffling next to Richie. He leans down, both of his hands bracketing Richie’s face, ghosting his lips over Richie’s. “How about you go pack and if you’re done in time you can join me in the shower? Huh?” Eddies licks a strip over Richie’s lips.

“Uuuhh…” Richie is defenseless.

Eddie chuckles. “Ok, big guy. Go get packing and I’ll see you shortly.” Quickly kissing Richie, Eddie swings toward the garden, clipping more tomatoes.

Dazed, Richie stumbles back into the house, the words “big guy” still ringing in his head. He clicks the bedroom door shut, thankful Eddie won’t be there to witness the disaster that is about to be their bedroom from the number of discarded clothes Richie’s about to try on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I’m so sorry to do this to Richie! Out of all the Losers, I think Richie struggles with self-worth the most - he’s not confident, he’s very self-critical, and on top of that he experiences imposter syndrome quite a lot. Of course, he deflects all of this with comedy, constantly making jokes about himself or a situation to distract himself and other people from really saying what he’s thinking. I think this is why I - and other people - relate to Richie so much. He’s a much deeper and more complex character compared to how he first comes off. 
> 
> Also, I’ll let you decide what show Richie is working on as well as who the comedian “John” is. *wink*
> 
> /
> 
> Research: It’s probably not obvious, but I do a lot of research for the stories I write. All of the places mentioned in the story are real locations in Los Angeles. I know it’s a bit nerdy, I have a lot of fun researching places and then imaging Richie and Eddie in that environment. So I thought it would be fun to share my research!
> 
> Links:  
> Richie’s outfit: https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/tv/a26988169/bill-hader-2019-interview-barry/
> 
> Toluca Lake: A very, very upscale neighborhood located in the San Fernando valley. It’s a stone's throw away from the Warner Bros. Studio lot. It’s also home to a lot of celebrities, such as Miley Cyrus, Steve Carell, and Melissa McCarthy.  
> https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/toluca-lake-hollywood-power-players-859171
> 
> Priscillia’s Coffee Shop: https://www.priscillascoffee.com/
> 
> The Americana At Brand: A very fancy upscale outdoor mall. 
> 
> Din Tai Fung: https://www.dintaifungusa.com/


	2. Chapter Two

The Best Part of Me (Is You)

Chapter Two

Richie’s POV

“Rich?”

“Huh?” Richie’s neck cracks, his head snapping to attention at the sound of Eddie’s voice.

“Did you hear me?” Eddie huffs, staring down at Richie who’s slouched down in an uncomfortable airport chair, burrowing into his ‘going out’ sweatpants and hoodie.

“Huuuh,” Richie drones, blinking rapidly. 

“Do you want breakfast? Coffee? I think that breakfast burrito place you like is open now.”

It’s early morning - a little _too early_ for Richie. From where Richie and Eddie are sitting in the petite Burbank terminal they can see the sun beginning to crack over the Verdugo mountains looming over the tarmac.

“I wouldn’t say I _like_ it, more like I _tolerate_ it-”

“I know, I know. I hate that this place doesn’t have a fuckin’ Starbucks too. I mean, what kind of airport doesn’t have a fucking _Starbucks_!” Eddie bemoans, a little grumpy since he hasn’t had his morning latte yet.

“No - huh - I’m good, babe. Just a large ass coffee and - huuuh-,” Richie wracks his mind, trying to think of something healthier than a grease filled breakfast burrito, “-a banana!”

“A ban-a-na?” Eddie echoes, carefully forming each syllable, his eyebrows digging into the bridge of his nose, further deepening his frown.

“Huh. Yeah. That’s it. Thanks, babe,” Richie says, trying to wave away the awkwardness. 

“Are you feeling ok, Rich?” Eddie takes a step forward, laying the back of his hand on Richie’s forehead. His frown deepens as he pulls his hand away.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just - uh - tired, that’s all.” Richie smiles up at Eddie, hoping Eddie can’t see right through him.

“Okkaaayy. Well, can you stay here and save our seats?”

“Sure. Of course, baby,” Richie holds back a laugh. There are barely 10 people sitting outside of the gate with them. They arrived at the airport so early - Eddie’s way of dealing with his travel anxiety - that they were one of the first people through security. “I’ve got this locked down, babe.”

“Ok, I’ll be right back,” Eddie squeezes Richie’s shoulder before walking away.

Richie slumps further down in his chair, his stomach audibly growling as he pulls down his baseball cap, hoping no one has recognized him. He’s not in the mood to interact with any fans today. He wishes he could just go back to sleep so he can forget about his growing hunger and lingering embarrassment from last night. 

Richie had actually managed to pack his suitcase by the time Eddie came in from gardening, completely sweaty and ready to hop into the shower, but by then Richie was so thoroughly embarrassed about his body, from the number of clothes he tried on - most of them not making the cut - that Richie was too afraid to get into the shower with Eddie. Too afraid Eddie would see what Richie’s finally come to realize about himself. 

Their date was awkward to say the least - well, at least Richie was awkward. Richie had thought sushi would be a healthy alternative to soy drenched dumplings. It wasn’t until a plump sushi roll was sitting in front of him that he realized his favorite type of sushi rolls are filled with cream cheese and deep fried. He spent most of dinner painstakingly picking out slivers of raw fish and rice, grain by grain, while avoiding Eddie’s cocked eyebrow and deepening frown.

Later that night, as Eddie licked deep into his mouth, pulling the curls at the back of Richie’s head to get a better angle, Richie momentarily forgot about his new found embarrassment. He was lost in the feel of Eddie’s naked body on top of him. It wasn’t until Eddie grabbed a thick slab of Richie’s love handles, digging his nails into them, that all of the nasty thoughts, hiding at the back of his head, came screaming forward. Richie recoiled, pulling back from Eddie’s open mouth. Before Eddie could ask, Richie bucked Eddie off, rolling them both onto their sides so Eddie was facing away from him. Richie encompassed Eddie from behind, keeping him locked in place, even as he slid into him. Richie only managed to cum from solely focusing on Eddie’s taught muscles instead of his own rolling fat.

Richie knows Eddie’s suspicious. Eddie knows him all too well. He just hopes Eddie doesn’t bring it up until they’re back from their trip. 

“Excuse me?” a small voice says, breaking through Richie’s thoughts.

“Huh?” Richie shakes his head, coming out to find a young teenage boy standing in front of him, awkwardly shuffling side to side. “Oh - huh - hi.”

“Ummm...I’m sorry to bother you, but - huh - are you Richie Tozier?” The boy squeaks.

“Oh - huh - yeah. Yeah, I am,” Richie says, lost for words. It still surprises him when people approach him, that he’s famous enough to get recognized in the middle of the most mundane places. He never knows what to say to them, still taken back by the fact that people think he’s actually funny. It’s not like this didn’t happen when he was doing his old material, but these conversations are on a whole different level.

“Oh, well - huh -” The boy says, slightly shaking. “I just - huuh - I just wanted to say that I really loved your Netflix special.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Richie smiles, already knowing where this is going.

“It was really brave of you to - huuuh - come out like that. I - huuuh - I actually just came out to my parents because of it. So I - huh - just wanted to say thank you and to let you know how much I admire you. So - huuh - yeah.”

“Oh, well, thank you. That - huh - that means a lot. Really. Do you want an autograph? I’m - huh - I’m not really looking my best for a photograph, you know?”

“Oh! Yes! That - huh - would be awesome!” The boy quickly scrambles for his backpack, pulling out a wrinkled artbook. With shaking hands he hands Richie the artbook along with a fine tip sharpie.

“What’s your name?” Richie asks, popping the cap of the sharpie.

“Aiden,” the boy whispers.

“Aiden,” Richie repeats, concentrating on making his handwriting somewhat legible. He scribbles next to a watercolor painting of a darky starry sky - _‘To my friend, Aiden. Cool art. Your friend, Richie.’_

He hands the open book back to Aiden, the sharpie slotted into the valley between the two pages. With a delicate touch Aiden gapes down, his eyes wide as he reads Richie’s message. 

“Wow!” the boy whispers reverently. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” Aiden gasps, looking at Richie with wet eyes.

“Of course,” Richie tries to swallow the thing lodged in his throat. “It was nice to meet you, Aiden.”

“Huh - yeah, you too,” Aiden says, walking backward, still staring down. “Thanks - huh - thanks again,” he says hurriedly. With a smile, he turns, running directly into Eddie who’s holding a tray of drinks and bags of food. 

“Woooaaah!” Eddie screams, his body jerking to the side to balance the toppling drinks, managing to save them in time.

“Oh my gosh!” Aiden screams, clutching his treasure to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He scrambles away, cheeks stained red.

Eddie shakes his head, his eyes bugging out as he sits next to Richie. “God, it still freaks me out that complete strangers know my name.” He hands Richie a large coffee and a crumpled bag. “They were out of bananas so I got you some banana nut bread.” 

“Thanks,” Richie takes a long gulp of coffee. “Well, you were a big part of my show. And the paparazzi just love taking pictures of us.” He tears a piece of bread, silentently thanking the universe for the lack of bananas at this small ass airport.

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles, “They love us until we start flipping them off.” He smiles as he leans into Richie’s side, slotting his arm through Richie’s. After taking a quick sip of his latte, he leans his head on Richie’s shoulder, his body relaxing into him. 

“Well, it is our signature move, babe,” Richie says, placing a soft kiss to Eddie’s head.

/

The stark white walls and floor of the hotel, obviously meant to impress and instill a sense of calmness, assault Richie the moment they walk into the hushed, dimly lit lobby. The walls - pristine white, clad in thin veined marble - do nothing but reflect both sound and light, further adding to the pain swelling in Richie’s head.

He feels hungover - his whole body aches, his head is killing him, and he can feel his stomach shriveling, practically collapsing in on itself. He wouldn’t describe himself as short tempered, but the petite lady with horn rimmed glasses in front of him in line at the reception desk is really testing his patience. She’s spent the last ten minutes complaining about how the view from her room is half obstructed by a brick wall. It’s taking everything in his will power to keep his growing frustration and anger in check. Probably the only thing keeping him in place is Eddie, who’s rubbing small circles into his lower back.

Tapping his foot, trying to get out some energy, he daydreams about stuffing a Chicago style pizza in his face and then falling, face first, into their plush hotel bed to take a much needed long afternoon nap, curling into Eddie’s back the entire time. Even though he’s physically exhausted, he knows he has enough will power left to forgo the pizza, but the nap is a necessity. They’re meeting up with the other Losers later that evening for Bev & Ben’s combined bachelor/bachelorette party. 

With their hotel key finally in hand, they make their way to the shiney elevator doors, both of them eager to get to their room to wash away the grim from being on an airplane.

“Richie! Eddie!” a deep voice yells across the expanse of the lobby.

They both turn, catching sight of Mike - his hair longer than usual, slightly tussled; a beard, finely trimmed, with a few white hairs sprinkled in - jogging across the lobby, his suitcase whining behind him. 

“Mikey! My man!” Richie yells, throwing up his arms, ready to pull Mike into a long, hard hug. 

Mike’s smile is wide, shining, as he gives Richie a bone crushing hug before quickly moving to Eddie. “It’s so great to see you both! You two look great!”

“Right back at ‘cha, homeschool,” Richie says, slapping the back of his hand against Mike’s arm. “Actually you look fuckin’ fantastic! I thought you were driving across the country, not rock climbing every mountain you come across.” 

After leaving Derry Mike bought an old RV with his savings from living above the Derry Public Library practically his whole life. He has been zig-zagging his way across America - stopping at every city capital, visiting every National Park, and seeing all of the state monuments - to see everything he missed during his tenure as the Derry lighthouse keeper. He swears once he’s done, he’ll finally settle down, buy some beach front property in Florida. The Losers just roll their eyes, a knowing smile pulling at their lips.

Mike’s journey has been slow. He started in California, after staying with Bill for a spell after their fight with Pennywise. In the last two and a half years of driving along, and branching off of Interstate 10, Mike has now made it to Jacksonville, FL where he's going to stay for a while before hitting the road to travel back West along the 20. 

The main reason Mike’s journey has been so slow is due to his need to write and document every single thing - the places he’s been, the people he’s met, the lost history he’s unearthed. He gets caught up in the history of the towns where he has decided to park his RV. He spends days going to the local library, digging up newspapers, sniffing out interesting and unique stories to get an idea of what made the town what it is today. He dines at the local hot spots, day after day, slowly getting to know the locals so it’s not completely off putting when he asks to interview them, asking them to share their personal stories with him.

At night, Mike stays up late, writing down that day’s adventure and organizing the countless photos he’s taken. Only when he thinks he’s dug up all he can does he pack up his RV and drive out of town, looking for his next destination.

Mike is one of the most active voices in the group chat, constantly updating the group on his travels. Informing them every single day when he’s hitting the road on a long drive as well as when he’s stopped for the night. The chat is filled with gorgeous, picturesque views and random birds Mike sends to Stan to have him identify the species. 

When Richie saw Mike’s daily check-in texts he always imagined Mike sitting behind a big steering wheel, singing along to music, driving by countless gas stations and roadside attractions until his legs cramped up on him, forcing him to stop for the night. He imagined it was a very sedentary life, driving during the day and then sitting and writing at night. Although, based on Mike’s well toned arms he’s been doing more than just driving and writing. It makes Richie feel like a lumpy bag of potatoes standing between Mike and Eddie.

Mike chuckles at Richie’s comment. “I did a lot of swimming, a lot of hiking at Apalachicola,” he says, walking inside the elevator with them. 

“Yeah? Wrestle any crocs?” Richie jokes, hitting the button to their floor. 

Mike lets out another bright laugh, hitting another button for his own floor. “Naw. Got to feed them though. They have a whole theme park for crocodiles and alligators in Florida! Did you know that?”

“Of course they fuckin’ do,” Richie snorts. 

“Did you know you’re more likely to die from falling from a ladder then being attacked by a crocodile?” Eddie adds as he watches the elevator dial slowly rise.

Richie laughs, “Of course you would fuckin’ know that.”

Eddie frowns, glaring at Richie. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I know that? I used to be a risk analyst!”

“Oh, did you have a lot of crocs as clients?” Richie grins, knowing where this conversation is going.

“Well, first off, they wouldn’t be the clients, they would be the _risk_! And second, it’s actually really dangerous to work on a ladder! There were 35 deaths last year from ladder incidents alone!”

“Is that why you always hold my waist when I’m on the step stool? A whole two steps up in the air? Not like I’m complaining or anything.”

“Well, knowing you, you would fall and hit your knee or something if I didn’t”

By this point the sound of Mike’s laughter has grown so loud it’s drowning out Richie and Eddie’s bickering. 

“Oh my god, you guys,” Mike laughs, behind his hand. “I’ve been with you for _two_ minutes!”

“You should see us at home, Mikey,” Richie says, grinning.

“I have a feeling I wouldn’t want to,” Mike says just as the elevator comes to a stop, a small chime sounding as the door opens to Mike’s floor. “Well, I’ll see you two lovebirds later!” Mike waves as he steps out, rolling his suitcase behind him, leaving the doors to close on Richie and Eddie still in the elevator.

Without missing a beat, Eddie snaps, “You love that I hold you while you’re on that step stool.” 

Richie grins, his smile taking up his whole face. “You bet your cute ass I do.” Kicking his suitcase to the side, he steps closer to Eddie.

Eddie's eyes flicker to Richie’s lips. “You make a whole fuckin’ production of it. Yelling through the house to let me know you’re pulling out the step stool.” 

Richie leans closer, tilting his head to side, ghosting his mouth over Eddie’s. “Safety first, my love,” he says before pressing his lips to Eddie’s. 

Eddie surges forward, pressing his lips harder against Richie’s before licking a long strip across Richie’s lips. He pulls away as the elevator chimes, the door opening to their floor. 

The soft sound of Eddie’s chuckling, probably from Richie’s expression, fills Richie’s ears. As Eddie takes his hand to drag him down the hall it occurs to Richie that there might be time for _other_ activities before dinner.

Richie’s mind is still humming with ideas as Eddie comes to halt; Richie practically running into him from behind. Eddie chuckles again as he swipes their hotel key, opening the door to pull Richie inside. 

“Oh,” Eddie gasps, “This is nice!” He toes off his shoes, delicately placing them in the side closet before exploring the room.

“Yeah, it better fucking be,” Richie says, unceremoniously toeing off his shoes and kicking them inside the closet. “I mean, it’s the Ritz-Carlton. For the price we paid for it…” He trails off, not really caring how expensive it was. 

The room is exceptionally nice though. It’s large for a hotel room. A king size bed, piled high with a white fluffy comforter and half a dozen pillows, fills the center of the room. A small connecting room is filled with a small dining table, a desk, and a couch facing a TV. Both of the rooms have views overlooking the bay, the pristine blue of Lake Michigan expending out to the horizon. 

“Richie!” Eddie yells from the bathroom. He pokes his head out, swiveling his head until he catches sight of Richie. “The shower is fucking huge!”

“Oh yeah? Shower for two?” Richie smirks deviously, mentally adjusting his earlier plans.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, mirroring Richie’s smirk. “Wanna take a shower with me, big guy?”

Richie gasps, but it’s quiet. So quiet Eddie doesn’t even hear him as he continues talking.

“We can then go to that pizza place you’ve been talking about nonstop. Giordanos? We have plenty of time before dinner. I think we can even get a nap in. Does that sound good?” Eddie looks up at Richie, his smile quickly transforming into a frown. “Hey, what is it? Rich?” 

Richie shakes his head, trying to school his expression. “I - huh - you know, I’m really tired. I think I’m just gonna take a nap. You know how I hate getting up that early,” Richie chuckles, although it comes out flat. “You can go ahead and shower though. I’ll take one later.” 

“Oh - huh - ok. Are you sure you’re not hungry? You didn’t really eat much this morning.” Eddie’s brow is knotted in concern as he looks Richie up and down.

“Naw. I’m...I’m good. Go, take a shower, babe. I know how you need to get that airplane grime off of you.” 

“Uh, ok, if you’re sure,” Eddie says hesitantly as he pulls out his toiletry bag from his suitcase, his eyes never leaving Richie. 

“Yeah, yeah. Go, babe, go. I’m gonna go pass out.” Richie slowly begins unbuckling his pants, hoping Eddie will give in and close the door.

“Oh, _okay_ ,” Eddie says, his frown growing deeper as he slowly steps back into the bathroom. He closes the door an inch at a time, giving Richie the opportunity to change his mind.

When the door finally clicks shut Richie lets out a long silent sigh. With his pants unbuckled, he sits back on the bed, placing his head in his hands. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out to the empty room.

/

“You have the envelope, right?” Richie asks, hitting the elevator button to the lobby. 

He feels refreshed after taking a much needed shower, although his brain still feels like it’s stuck in molasses. He wasn’t able to fall asleep due to his internal voice picking and shredding any thought any thought that floated through his brian to shreds. He laid in bed, pretending to be asleep even when Eddie slipped into bed, curling up against Richie’s back. He laid there the whole time starving - his empty stomach past the point of growling - just listening to Eddie’s steady breathing until it was time to get up.

“Yup, right here,” Eddie says, patting the right side of his grey blazer. 

“Do you think they’ll like it?” Richie says, fiddling with his rolled up shirt sleeves. It was one of the few nice shirts in his wardrobe that didn’t feel like it was strangling him. 

“You don’t think they’ll like a week’s stay at a remote island resort off the coast of Panama?” One of Eddie’s eyebrows quirks up to the point where it looks like it might fall off his face.

“No, no. I think they’ll love it. It’s just,” Richie says, shrugging, “it just feels weird to give them an envelope. You know, it feels like it should be so much bigger. I mean, I know the gift itself is _big_ , but it feels weird to be giving it to them in such a small package. I don’t know,” Richie twitches under Eddie’s piercing gaze which has been boring into him since Richie got out of the shower.

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly, his eyebrow falling back down. “Well, I don’t know what else to have gotten them. I mean, what kind of gift do you get for people who have enough money to buy a whole private island!?”

“Well, you never know. That could be Ben’s wedding gift to Bev,” Richie says, wondering idly what he should get Eddie for a wedding present. 

**‘So presumptuous. You haven’t even asked him yet. Do you actually think he’ll say yes?’**

Richie bites his lip, stifling a groan.

Eddie’s laugh fills the elevator, slightly easing the pain in Richie’s chest. “I’m sure Ben bought her a whole _group_ of islands! One for every year he’s loved her. He would totally do something like that.” 

“Yeah, what a sap,” Richie mumbles, transfigured by the crinkles fanning Eddie’s eyes.

A few hiccups escape Eddie’s chest as his laughter dies down. After taking a few deep breaths Eddie glances at Richie. His eyes are soft around the edges but there’s still a hardness to them, a part that’s still searching, trying to peer into Richie. The hardness fades as they peer at each other, their smiles growing larger and larger.

Richie takes a step toward Eddie, but he’s interrupted by the chime of the elevator. Their heads snap to the sliding doors which reveals Stan, dressed in pressed khaki pants and a striped button-up shirt. 

Stan’s eyes, which are locked on his phone, swing up, quickly taking them in before swinging back down to his quickly moving fingers. As realization sparks, his eyes snap up, his fingers pausing, hovering over his phone. A smile tugs at his lips. 

“Honey,” Stan says, his eyes locked on Eddie & Richie, “we’ll need to wait for another elevator. This one’s full.” 

Richie & Eddie flip Stan the middle finger, smirks lining both of their faces. Richie kicks a leg forward in front of the elevator door before it can close on them.

“Really?” a soft voice says off to the side. A petite blond steps into frame, next to Stan to peer inside the elevator. A smile spreads across Patty’s face as she catches sight of the elevator’s occupants. “Richie! Eddie!” she squeals, flinging her arms open as she runs into the elevator. “You two look so handsome!” 

“Aww, thank you, Patty, my dear. You’re looking gorgeous!” Richie says, giving her a hug. As she goes to give Eddie a hug, Richie pulls Stan into a bone crushing hug. “Stanny! Stan-the-Man! You look marvelous! What? No cardigan?”

“It’s summer, Rich,” Stan chuckles over his shoulder as he gives Eddie a hug.

Richie clicks his tongue. “Still. You don’t look the same.”

“Richie! Congratulations on your Emmy nominations! That’s so _exciting_ ,” Patty says, curling an arm through Stan’s, hugging it to her side. 

“Yeah, congrats, Rich,” Stan says, smiling. “You better start writing your acceptance speech.”

“Speech _ES_ !” Patty corrects. “Got nominated for _two_ Emmys!”

“Uh, thanks,” Richie says, shuffling awkwardly from side to side. “It’s nothing. Probably not even gonna win. I mean, you know, it’s just an honor to be nominated.”

**_‘How do you think they’re going to react when you don’t win?’_ **

“Nonsense!” Patty chuckles, batting a hand at Richie’s humbleness. “Of course you’re going to win. Your special was _incredible_ , Richie. No one deserves it more than you.” 

The elevator door chimes, opening up onto the lobby, saving Richie from the conversation. A hand slips into Richie’s palm as they walk out into the cool night air. He looks over to see Eddie smiling at him. Richie grips Eddie’s hand, smiling back at him.

The walk to the restaurant, a block from their hotel, across from Lake Michigan is short. There is electricity filling the air from the thought of all seven of them - plus a few more - being together again. The last time all of them were together was two Christmas/Hanukkah’s ago.

When they arrive at the restaurant - a crowded, modern italian restaurant - they’re shown to a private room in the back. The first thing that catches Richie’s eye is Bev’s long, bright red hair and glowing smile, which only grows wider as she catches sight of the new arrivals.

“Welcome!” She screams over the other’s laughter, raising a hand with a champagne glass to toast their arrival.

The others - Bill, Audra, Mike, Ben, & Bev - are already there. There are hugs and smiles all around as they greet each other, something that takes a fair amount of time, especially since their group has grown. 

Once they’re finally done, they sit down at the large circular table as more champagne glasses are handed around. Conversations are going left and right, across the table, and behind chairs. They’re loud and a little rambunctious from the thrill of all of them being together again, but they settle down as the waiter starts circling the table, taking each of their orders.

“Wait, wait!” Mike says, quickly taking a sip of his champagne, some of it dripping down his chin in his haistness. “Are we saying that we’re going to send the holidays together? LIke for real this time!?”

There are glances around the table, each of them waiting for someone to speak up. They were just discussing all of their plans for Thanksgiving and the holidays, and miraculously it seems like all of them are currently free for Christmas/Hanukkah. 

“I mean,” Stan jumps in, glancing at Patty, who gives him a small smile and a nod before he continues, “Patty and I are spending Thanksgiving with her family, and we spent last Hanukkah with mine. So I think we can manage it.”

“Well, Ben and I don’t have any plans,” Bev says, taking Ben’s hand, “and I think your mother would be okay if we didn’t spend Christmas with her.” 

“Yeah, it should be fine,” Ben says, a goofy smile spreading across his face as he squeezes Bev’s hand. “We’ll be with her for Thanksgiving. She’ll understand if we have other plans for Christmas.”

“Well, count me in!” Mike says. “I’m down to go anywhere!”

“Yeah, we’re good too,” Eddie adds. “Right, Rich?” 

“Huh?” Richie says, blinking up from his menu. He’s been listening but he’s been a little distracted, scouring the menu trying to find a healthy meal he actually wants to eat. He’s getting a little nervous as the waiter is getting closer and closer.. “Yeah, yeah! We’re totally down,” he says going back to the menu.

“Weeelll,” Bill says, awkwardly scratching behind his head. 

There is an outbreak of ‘nos’ & ‘boos” from the other Losers, all of them frowning.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Bill yells, throwing his hands up in defense. “It’s just we don’t know what’s going to happen with the film schedule!”

“We would love to join you, really!” Audra adds, pouting. “It would be much better than filming in the middle of nowhere in Canada. We just need to figure out what’s going on.”

“We’ll try our best to make it to work,” Bill adds sheepishly. 

“Why don’t you throw your writer and star actress weight around?” Ben says. 

“Oh, well, you know I don’t really have that much power-,” Bill says before Audra jumps in.

“Don’t worry. “I’ll see what I can do,” she adds with a wink.

Bev laughs, throwing her head back in delight. “Yeah, Audra! You show those boys!”

“Excuse me, sir,” the waiter says to Richie, making him jump in his seat. “What can I get for you?”

“Huuuhhh,” Richie drones. He has no idea what he should order. What he really wants is a nice big steak and a heaping pile of steak fries, but he knows that’s the last thing he should order. His eyes frantically scan the menu, searching for something remotely healthy. His eyes finally land on something, but it’s the last thing he wants. “Huh, I’ll have a salad. Huh, this one,” he says, pointing at the menu.

He hears Eddie sputter next to him.

“And, I’ll have three fingers of whiskey,” Richie quickly adds, hoping it will satisfy his grumbling stomach.

“Very good, sir,” the waiver nods before moving down the table to Patty. 

Richie slowly turns back to the group, who are still talking about their holiday plans. He keeps his eyes forward, mentally telling himself he’s trying to focus on the conversation, when in reality he’s avoiding Eddie’s hard gaze.

“Well, we should go somewhere new!” Patty says.

“We should go camping!” Mike yells, smiling at the group.

“What!? For the holidays!?” Stan sputters, laughing at the thought.

“Well, we don’t have to go somewhere _cold_...there are a lot of places that won’t have snow.” Mike says sheepishly. 

“Wait, wait!” Richie jumps in, thankful for the opportunity. “Let me get this straight, Mikey. You want to go _camping!?_ Like in the _wilderness!?”_

“Ok, ok. It’s not the best idea for the holidays,” Mike frowns. “Maybe we should save that for one of our summer vacations.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a _much better_ idea, Mike,” Bev laughs, side hugging Mike, trying to dispel his embarrassment.

“Wait?” Richie says. “You’re all actually down to go _camping_ ? I mean, obviously not for the holidays. But like in general? _Really!?_ ” He scans the faces around the table, doing a complete sweep of the table before landing on Eddie.

“What?” Eddie says, shifting uncomfortably under Richie’s gaze. “I can go camping!” he yells defensively. “What!? Don’t fucking look at me like that!”

“Reeeelllyy?” Richie grins, leaning toward Eddie. “You want to go _camping_? With all the bugs, all of the various creatures roaming around? No shower, no bathrooms-”

“Alright, alright!” Eddie screeches, throwing up his hands. “I don’t want to go fucking camping! Okay!?” 

The others breakout in laughter.

“Fuck all of you,” Eddie frowns, taking a sip from his champagne. “You all can go camping and I’ll stay in a five star hotel. See how you like that.”

“Oohh! That sounds much better! Sign me up!” Richie wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, squeezing him to his side.

“Oh, what makes you think you’ll be joining me?” Eddie smirks, playfully flicking a finger under Richie’s nose. 

“What!? No, baby! Don’t leave me out in the cold! Please! I’m sorry!” Richie nuzzles his nose into Eddie’s cheek.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, I’m sure,” Bill deadpans. 

“Hey! Screw you, Bill!” Richie points a finger at Bill. “How many times have you had to sleep in your trailer, huh?” 

“Okay! Okay!” Stan yells. “No camping! At least not for the holidays.” 

“Well, I agree with Patty. We should go somewhere new,” Bev adds, laughing. 

“Hey, Rich,” Ben jumps in, his chest still rumbling with laughter. “I’ve been meaning to say congratulations. How does it feel to be an Emmy nominated comedian?”

Rich chokes on his spit, but it goes unnoticed by the others as Mike jumps in.

“Yeah! Look at you! Nominated for _two_ Emmys!” 

“It’s nothing. Really…” Richie fidgets in his seat, wishing everyone would stop staring at him. “I mean, probably not going to win or anything…”

**_‘Of course you’re not going to fucking win.’_ **

“What!?” Ben gasps. “Don’t say that! Your Netflix special was amazing! How could you not win!?”

“Yeah, our Trashmouth, nominated for an Emmy. First one of the Losers to be nominated for anything like that,” Bill joins in.

“Well, I wish I could say I was the _first one_ to have a Netflix special,” Richie feigns annoyance, glad to shift the conversation away from him.

Ben, across the table, rolls his eyes dramatically. “Oh my god, Richie. You’re still upset about that!?”

“Yes, still!” Richie grins, taking a sip of his newly presented whiskey. “You got a Netflix special before I did!”

**_‘It’s cause Ben is actually talented. Unlike you.’_ **

“It wasn't a _special,”_ Ben moans. _“_ It was _one episode_ that was part of a series.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the principal of the matter!” 

“You know Bill and I watched that series,” Audra adds.

Bill chuckles. “Yeah, you know we actually watched it before our reunion. I had the strangest feeling while we were watching it. It was an hour of deja vu.”

“What?” Richie quips, “From finding out Haystack transformed into a team of hot soccer players?”

Screeching laughter breaks around the table, some snorting, some hitting the table from the force of their laughter. Richie’s anxiety fades, enjoying the sound of ringing laughter. A smile starts to pull at his lips as something lightly wacks him on his arm.

“Owwww,” Richie whines dramatically, grabbing his arm in mock pain. “Eddie! What!? You know I think you’re the _handsomest, cutest_ guy I know!” Richie coos, reaching over to pinch Eddie’s cheek. 

“Don’t!” Eddie barks, grabbing Richie’s hand midair, swinging it down to their sides to place it on his upper thigh. Richie digs his nails into Eddie’s thigh, leaving it there as he turns back to the group. 

“Don’t worry, Rich,” Ben says, having recovered from his embarrassment. “I’m sure you’ll get another special. That’ll make us two to one.”

**‘Never gonna happen.’**

“Naaaw. I wouldn’t bet on it,” Richie mumbles into his whiskey before taking a sip, enjoying the burn as it goes down. Eddie shifts underneath his hand, putting his hand on top of Richie’s to entwine their fingers. Richie breathes into his glass, taking solace in the weight of Eddie next to him before he gulps more down.

“Oh my god, you guys! You’ll never guess what I just found out!” Mike jumps in, “I recently got a call from one of my old librarian friends from Derry. They told me that the ol’ Kissing Bridge is gonna get _torn down_. Gonna be replaced.” 

The words ‘Kissing Bridge’ and ‘torn down’ ring through Richie’s head, causing his throat to collapse in on itself, bringing on a coughing fit. A small, firm weight lightly pats his back and then a glass of water is placed in front of him.

“Take a drink, Rich,” Eddie says, rubbing small circles into his back. 

With coughs still racking his chest, Richie grabs the glass, gulping it down. As his coughing fit fades he begins to hear the conversation going on around the table.

“What!? Oh my gosh, all of that history. Just erased,” Ben says.

“No kidding,” Bill says. “By the time I left Derry I don’t think there was a bare spot on that bridge. There were so many carvings.”

“Yeah, I guess that means there will be a whole new bridge for kids to carve into,” Stan adds.

“Oh my god, Ben!” Bev yelps, grabbing Ben’s shoulder. “You should have your company build the new bridge!”

“Oh - Huh-” Ben says. 

“That would be perfect!” Mike says, clapping his hands. “You could name it ‘The Losers’ bridge!” 

“Yeah, _that’ll_ really make people want to carve their initials into it,” Stan chuckles.

This whole conversation is muffled in Richie’s ears, like he’s hearing it under water. The room is spinning. He feels light headed. He might throw up. He takes another gulp of whiskey to settle his stomach. 

“Yeah, come on, Ben!” Bill says. “You gotta do it! Leave some Loser legacy in Derry.” 

“Okay! Okay!” Ben relents, holding his hands up in defeat. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it! Man, you guys are _rough_.” 

“Yes!” Mike hollars, punching his fist into the air in celebration. The other laugh and cheer, raising their glasses.

“To the Losers Club!” Bill says, raising his wine glass.

Richie raises his glass to join the others. 

“To the Losers!” they all yell, clinking their glasses before throwing back their drinks.

“To Ben & Bev!” Richie yells, raising his glass again.

“To Ben & Bev!” the others yell, clinking and drinking all over again. This time Richie drains his glass then signals the waiter for another one.

More drinks are handed around and light banter goes around until their dinner arrives. A large green bowl filled with an assortment of other colors is placed in front Richie. He gulps another mouthful of whiskey, frowning down at his healthy meal. A savory aroma fills his nose; he glances over to lay eyes on Eddie’s shrimp and linguine filled bowl. 

“Want some?” Eddie smirks, catching sight of Richie’s gaze.

“What? No, no,” Richie says, batting away Eddie’s offer. “I’m totally good with my…my...,” Richie trails off, trying to find another word except-

“Rabbit food?” Eddie chuckles, although Richie can see a hard questioning gaze behind the twinkle in Eddie’s eye. He ignores it in favor of taking another gulp of whiskey.

“Mhm. Yes. Delicious, delicious rabbit food,” Richie says, stabbing his fork into his salad and shoving it in his mouth. The taste is bright and fresh, but not satisfying. He thinks even if he manages to eat the whole bowl there will still be a gaping hole in his stomach. 

He chews, overly working his jaw, staring defiantly at Eddie. While he meant it to be playful, Eddie’s not smiling anymore. He’s frowning, the questioning gaze in his eyes burning bright. Richie shifts his gaze, taking another sip of whiskey to wash down the earthy salad.

He turns his focus to the conversation going on at the table about Bill’s upcoming book and the movie adaptation which both him and Audra are working on. Richie listens, pushing lettuce around his plate, as he favors his whiskey, which gets replenished a number of times. 

Later in the evening, when the table is full of empty champagne and wine bottles, the Losers have broken away from their seats at the table, having moved around to form small clusters - Patty, who is sitting on Stan’s lap, is talking to Bill and Audra; Eddie & Bev are talking with Mike about his latest trip, Mike flipping through photos on his phone; Richie & Ben are sitting at the private bar in their room.

It still feels like there’s a gaping hole in Richie’s stomach as he did nothing but stab and mix his salad. He feels better though, more at ease as the anxious voice in his head has gotten quieter and quieter.

Richie and Ben clink their shot glasses together, both of them slinging them back. 

“Wooo!” Richie yells, shaking his head at the sharp burn going down his throat. “Good Sir!” Richie yells, raising two fingers to get the bartender’s attention, “Another round!”

“No, no!” Ben coughs, shaking his head. “I can’t!” 

“What!? Haystack! Come on! Another round! The first one was for Bev. This next one's for you!” Rich cries, grabbing the newly poured glasses to slide one over to Ben. “To your weddin’!” Richie slurs, raising his glass to toast with Ben. 

Ben gasps, shaking his head after shooting back his drink. “Ok, ok! I’m good, I’m good,” Ben wheezes, pushing his glass away.

“Ben,” Richie whispers, leaning forward on his bar stool, having to grip the bottom of his seat to keep his balance, “You gotta tell me. Yot gotta tell me, man...what’s it like? I need - to - KNOW!” 

Ben cocks his head. “What’s _what_ like?”

“Being _married_ ,” Richie hisses, as if it was obvious. 

Ben barks out a laugh. “Well I’m not exactly married yet. Can I tell you in two days?”

Waving his hands erratically, Richie shakes his head, “No, no. I meant-,” he growls in annoyance, snapping his fingers, biting his lips in frustration, “what’s the other thing?”

“Engaged?” Ben laughs.

“Yes!” Richie shrieks, slamming his hand onto the bar. “Engaged!”

“You want to know what’s it like to be engaged?” 

“Mhhm,” Richie hums, taking a sloppy sip of his beer.

“Oh, well…” Bens says, his gaze falling on Bev, who’s sitting between Eddie & Mike, laughing at something one of them just said. His gaze is steady, glowing with warmth and love. He keeps his eyes locked on her as he talks. “It’s not much different than dating to be honest. You do all of the things you did before - go on romantic dates, stay at home and cuddle on the couch, run errands on the weekend. I mean, nevermind you have a big wedding to plan - which is a big pain in the ass, let me tell you - but it’s the same, but at the same time it’s not.”

“Wow,” Richie mumbles, his own gaze locked onto Eddie. “Not very helpful, haystack.” 

Ben shakes his head, turning back to Richie. “It’s the same cause...the bond you have...the love you have for each other is still there, but it’s...stronger? More intense?” He shakes his head, seemingly displeased with his own words. “It’s like your love...this burning ember inside of you, grows hotter and hotter, getting ready to transform, to forge your love into something unbreakable and resilient.

“Holy shit, haystack. You should have been the writer.”

“Naw,” Ben says with burning cheeks, “Bill’s the writer. I just have a poet’s heart. Or at least that’s what Bev says.” 

“Well, if that’s what being engaged is liked you gotta tell me what being married is like.” 

“Why do you wanna know?” Ben smirks, glancing at Richie.

Richie gulps, turning away from Ben’s questioning gaze to slurp another mouthful of beer. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he shrugs his shoulders, stuttering, “No...no reason.” 

“Ok, if you say so,” Ben shrugs, his smirk growing bigger.

Richie licks his lips. Staring into his beer he feels his stomach twist into a knot. He feels queasy with the thought of it - being engaged, being married. Are they ready for that? Are they ready for that kind of commitment? Would Eddie even agree to marry him? _Him?_ A pathetic excuse of a man. He’s never had anything as solid as a ring on his finger. The only things he’s ever had, that’s been proof of his love for Eddie is-

“Ben,” Richie says.

“Yeah?” 

“I need to ask you a favor.”

“Sure. Anything,” Ben says.

“I - wait - _anything_?” Richie asks. “Just like that?”

“What? Are you going to ask me to name one of my buildings after you? Cause I have to say, I have to name one after Bev first, man.”

“The Beverly? Huh. That has a nice ring to it,” Richie muses, only to shake his head. “No, that’s - that’s not what I wanted to ask.”

“Oh, ok. Shoot.”

"The Kissing Bridge-"

In Derry?”

“What other Kissing Bridge do you know of? Yes, the one in Derry!”

“Ok! Ok!”

“I need you to get me something. Or I should say I need you to bring me back something. You see…” Richie trails off, preparing himself to tell this story, a story he’s only ever told Eddie.

“You want me to get your carving?” Ben shoots back.

Richie jerks, spills some of his beer. “How - how da _fuck_ do you know that!? I - I’ve only ever told Eddie about that.”

“Well, I mean...the carving was your phone screen saver for like a year. How could I not recognize it as the Kissing Bridge?” Ben states, as if it was obvious. “And I mean, I obviously thought the same thing - I mean, about getting my carving.”

“ _Your_ carving? Wait. Nevermind. Of course, you carved into the Kissing Bridge. What was it? B+B?” Richie snides.

“With a heart around it,” Ben mumbles, blushing.

“Of fucking course,” Richie sighs. “We’re just a buncha saps aren’t we, Benny?”

“Yup. Just two hopeless romantics,” Ben chuckles, smiling at Richie.

Throwing his head back in laughter, Richie picks up his beer, “Hey, I can cheer to that. To us hopeless romantics,” he proclaims, sliding his glass over to clink it with Ben’s beer. 

After they both drink, Richie’s gaze turns serious. “So you’ll do it?”

“Mhm?” Ben hums, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Oh! Your carving! Of course, man. Don’t worry. I got it.”

Relaxing, Richie slumps further into his seat. “Thanks, Ben.”

“Of course, Richie.”

“Hey! Let’s have another round!” Richie blurts out, raising his hand to signal the bartender again. “Let’s toast to both of our sappy asses.”

“Oh, no. No, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rich,” Ben moans with nervous eyes.

“Come ON! Just one more round,” Richie cajoles. He leans closer to Ben, so much so he’s on the edge of his stool. Just when he’s about to slip off two arms wrap around his waist, pulling him back.

Eddie props his head on Richie’s shoulder. “What are you two doing over here?”

“Nothing,” Ben breathes out, relief showing on his face. “Just talking about the wedding.” 

“Oh yeah?” Eddie says as he unwinds his arms from Richie’s chest. He walks in front of Richie and then shuffles backward, forcing Richie to spread his legs until he’s leaning back into Richie, practically sitting in his lap. “When is your mom showing up?” Eddie asks, reaching over to grab one of the shot glasses, quickly shooting it back. Without missing a beat he reaches for the other one, shooting that back too. “I haven’t seen her since I left Derry.”

  
Richie winds his arms around Eddie’s waist, hugging Eddie’s warm body to his chest. He places his head in the crook of Eddie’s shoulder, at the base of his neck breathing in his scent. He feels Eddie place a hand on top one of his, squeezing it slightly.

“Yeah, she’s excited to see all of you guys too! She didn’t believe me when I said all of you would be at the wedding!”

“I bet,” Eddie chuckles. “Hey, did Richie show you our finished clubhouse?” Eddie pulls out his phone, handing it over to Ben.

“What!? No!” Ben half screams, aglow with curiosity as he takes the phone from Eddie. “How did the renovation of the movie room go? Did your GC build it like I thought they would?”

The rest of the conversation is muted in Richie’s ears as he focuses on Eddie - the smell of him, the warmth of him, his voice. Closing his eyes, Richie drifts off into a hazy darkness, content to just listen to the sound of Ben & Eddie talking.

/

The next thing Richie knows, he’s outside, walking along the street. The cold breeze from the lake licks his face, bringing all of his senses back online. The first thing he notices is that he’s holding hands with someone. Following the line of the hand all the way up the arm, he finds Eddie. 

The second thing he notices is that the other Losers are there too. All of them are there walking in front of Eddie and Richie, each in their own little group - Ben & Bev, Patty & Stan, Bill & Audra, & Mike. They’re all walking - half stumbling, really - away from the restaurant. To where, Richie doesn’t know.

“Hey guys!” Eddie yells, grabbing the attention of the other Losers. “We’re going to take a walk. We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

The others wave to them as they stumble their way down the street.

“Wha-” Richie starts to ask before Eddie twists on his feet, tugging Richie along back down the way they came.

Richie dutifully walks beside Eddie, unsure of where they’re going. The walk is slow as there’s some stumbling on Richie’s part and the fact that he needs to rely on Eddie to keep him on his feet. 

“Eddss,” Richie slurs, “I need to-”, a hiccup racks his chest, “I need to sit dooowwnn.” The bright neon street signs and the loud car horns strike through Richie’s head like a bolt of lighting.

“It’s ok,” Eddie says, steadily pulling Richie along. “We’re almost there.”

“Whe-,” another hiccup, “Wheerre?”

Eddie doesn’t answer, he just keeps tugging Richie, stopping every now and then to pause at a walk sign. Finally they come to a stop underneath a bright glowing neon sign.

A combination of excitement and dread fill Riche once he realizes where they are. “Uuuhhh,” Richie drones, shaking his head as Eddie pulls him through the front door. The heavy aroma of tomato sauce and cheese fill his nose; his dormant stomach roaring back to life.

As a waiter guides them through the restaurant they pass by table after table, each of them have a pizza - inches thick with oozing cheese bubbling on the top - sitting in the center. Richie bites his lip, moaning from the amora that seems to have made its way into his blood.

Richie’s head spins as he sits down. WIth his head still swimming, Eddie orders and before Richie can even ask what is happening Eddie turns to him with a hard piercing stare.

With his telltale notch between his eyebrows, Eddie asks, “Ok. What is going on?”

“Uhh,” Richie blinks, trying to feign innocence. “What - huuuh - what are you talking about?”

“Richie, _please.”_ There is a slight desperation to Eddie’s voice, which cuts right through Richie. “You’ve been acting strange since yesterday.” 

“I don’t-”

“Don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Eddies snaps. 

Richie gapes at him. 

“You’ve been acting strange since your meeting with Liam,” Eddie continues, his frown growing deeper and deeper. “You didn’t want to shower with me...which was _weird_ , but I just thought you were a little distracted - worried about what happened during your meeting and if you were going to get the SNL thing. But _then_ you just picked at your sushi. I literally watched you pick it apart, piece by piece. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but _again_ I let it go. I thought I could bring you out of it - out of your head - when we were in bed…” Eddie hesitates, shifting his eyes around to make sure no one was listening, “but you were still so _distant..._ as if you weren’t even there with me.”

“Again, I thought you would come out of it this morning. That you would have slept it off, but then you barely ate anything for breakfast. You asked for a fucking _banana_ , which is just strange for you when you could have a breakfast burrito. You didn’t want to take a shower with me at the hotel. That’s two times in a row! And then you ordered a _fuckin’ salad_ for dinner and then drank your weight in whiskey all night. And, I just,” Eddie pauses, taking a deep breath, “I’m not letting this go on any longer. I want to know what’s going on. I’m...I’m worried about you,” Eddie sighs, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

And just like that, Richie’s heart breaks. He didn’t mean to worry Eddie. He just didn’t know how to have this conversation. Honestly, he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough or sober enough for this conversation, but he’ll try. He’ll try for Eddie.

Grabbing his water glass, Richie gulps it down, draining half the glass in one go. Some of it dribbles down his chin, but he ignores it as he turns back to Eddie.

“Eds - _Eddie_ ,” Richie sobs, the words getting caught in his throat from the wave of guilt rolling over him.

Eddie reaches over the table, grabbing Ricihe’s hand. “Rich,” Eddie says softly, “What is it? You can tell me. I want to help. Come on. What is it, big guy?”

Richie gasps, his hand twitching so hard it rips out of Eddie’s grasp.

Eddie’s mouth drops, surprised. “Rich-”

“That’s just it, Eds. I’m - I’m big. I’m _FAT_ ,” he spits. “Half of my clothes don’t fuckin’ fit anymore. I’m bursting out of them like a juicy fuckin’ sausage. I’m...I’m just this fat, useless piece of shit.” Sobs wrack through Richie’s body as he stares at the white linen covered table, unable to look at Eddie.

“Everyone keeps congratulating me on my Emmy nominations, and they keep saying ‘oh you’re going to win, you’re going to win,” he mimics, his voice going higher in a poor imitation of their friends. 

“But I’m not! I’m fuckin’ not! I don’t even know how I got nominated!” he rants, his voice gaining momentum the more and more he talks. “How am I supposed to face everyone when I don’t win, huh? HUH!? Cause they’re going to realize that I’m not worth anything. That I’m not worth it. Even Liam knows it. He brought in what’s-his-name to replace me! He knows I’m not going to win, and that I’m just a hack.”

“And, I - I’m sorry I was acting strange,” Richie croaks, sobs now wracking his chest. “I - I didn’t mean to worry you. I just...I just don’t know what _to do_ . I feel so fuckin’ _lost_.” He slumps further into his chair, breathless as streaks of tears roll down his hot and sweaty cheeks.

Only the dull roar of ambient conversation follows. Richie gulps, afraid to look at Eddie, to see the look of realization on his face.

“Rich-,” Eddies whispers.

Before Eddie can continue a steaming pizza is placed in front of them. The aroma slaps Richie in the face, the shock of it almost knocking him over. Richie looks up from the pizza to find Eddie dutifully cutting up the pizza. He slides a slice toward Richie.

“Eat,” Eddie says with a soft look in his eyes.

Richie pauses, looking between the pizza and Eddie. Eddie smiles, nodding toward the pizza.

Richie realizes a long wet sigh, taking up a fork and knife to cut into the pizza. He lets out a loud moan when the hot gooey cheese hits his tongue. He quickly cuts into the pizza for another bite, and before he knows it, the pizza is gone.

Eddie places his hand on Richie’s arm, his thumb drawing circles. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Yeah?”

A wet cry breaks out of Richie. “Can we cuddle?” He sniffles. 

Eddie smiles wide, his eyes misty. “Of course, baby. Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry to end this on an angsty note. I'll be posting chapters 3-5 next Friday so please subscribe to get a notification. I promise Loser shenanigans, excesses amounts of fluff, Ben & Bev's wedding, and some soft love making.
> 
> I didn’t mean to make Richie kinda anorexic. Richie just doesn’t know how to eat healthy, so instead, he just nibbles at small bits of food he thinks are healthy, which kinda results in him not really eating.
> 
> References & Research:
> 
> I based Mikey’s appearance off of an article from Parade on Isaiah Mustafa cause...damn.  
> https://parade.com/913269/mikebloom/isaiah-mustafa-everything-you-need-to-know/
> 
> The Apalachicola Mike mentions is the Apalachicola National Forest in Florida: https://www.fs.usda.gov/recmain/apalachicola/recreation
> 
> The theme park Mike refers to is Gatorland: https://www.gatorland.com/
> 
> Ben’s Netflix special is a reference to Netflix’s show Abstract: The Art of Design, particularly S1, Episode 4 focusing on architect Bjarke Ingels, who kinda looks like a grown up Ben.


	3. Chapter Three

The Best Part of Me (Is You)

Chapter Three

Richie’s POV

  
  


A loud boom, boom, boom thunders through Richie’s head. The shock waves vibrate through his skull, tingling down his spine and legs, shaking his body violently all the way down to his pinky toe. Still clouded in sleep, he releases a long heavy sigh, burrowing further under the comforter. 

Another series of booms, heavier than the last, echo through Richie’s head, ripping him from sleep. His body goes into automatic defense mode - his body jerking upward, limbs flailing, only entangling them more in the sheets. Grunting, he twists his head side to side trying to identify the source of the sound, only to find a dark and empty room. 

Relieved, he slumps back down in bed. He rolls onto his side, shoving his face into the cool pillow. He’s on the edge of sleep when the next series of booms echo through the dark room, crashing against the inside of Riche’s skull. Sitting up in bed again, with a hand placed on his head, he realizes the booms are coming from the hallway. 

It happens again, even closer. Boom, boom, boom. Although this time, after the booms, he hears a faint voice. 

His heart leaps into his throat, realizing what’s about to happen. 

As he scrambles out of bed, fighting against the tangled sheets, the sound falls on his door. Boom, boom, boom.

“Hello?” A soft voice calls on the other side. “Housekeeping.”

He tries to call out, but his throat is dry. With one foot firmly planted in the plush carpet he flails his arms, trying to untangle his foot, which is still stuck in the twisted sheets.

“Wait,” he croaks.

He manages to tear his foot away just as he hears the telltale beep and clicking of the lock. He stumbles across the room, flying down the tiny hallway to slam his body against the door.

“I’m here! I’m here!” he yells. “Can you - huh - can you come back later?” 

All he hears is a mumbled response, followed by the jangling of a cart. 

He holds his ground for a few beats until the sound of the cart has faded. With a sigh of relief he shoves his back against the door, slumping down to the floor. He places his head in his hands, trying to stop the ringing. With a grunt, he pulls himself up from the floor to make his way back to the comforts of the bed. Halfway across the room, he pauses, his eyes landing on the empty bed.

“Eddie?” Richie whispers to the room.

Only silence greets him.

“Eddie?” Richie calls, slowly stepping toward the bathroom. He opens the door; there’s only darkness inside.

**_'He’s gone.'_ **

“Edd-IE!” Richie yells, his voice cracking at the end. He runs to the adjoining room, throwing open the french doors to stumble into the sun streaked room. With pinched eyes, he looks in all corners of the room. 

**_'He’s not coming back.'_ **

“Eddie,” Richie sobs, turning in the circle as he checks the room a second time. 

The clicking of the door pulls him out of his dark spiral.

“Eddie?” Richie croaks, standing his ground in the sun slatted room, too afraid to move.

“Rich?” Eddie’s voice rings, bright and chipper.

At the sound of Eddie’s voice, Richie surges forward, practically throwing himself into the other room. He catches himself on the frame of the french doors watching Eddie place a tray on the coffee table.

“Heeey,” Eddie chuckles, walking toward Richie. Winding his arms around Richie’s bare torso he presses himself against Richie’s body, leaning up on his tip-toes to plant a quick peck to Richie’s lips. “I’m glad you’re awake. I brought you breakfast.” He cocks his head toward the tray.

“Oh,” Richie breathes, too in awe of Eddie to form words. He squeezes Eddie’s body against his.

A chuckle vibrates Eddie’s chest. “I brought coffee too.” 

Richie moans, “I love you.”

A burst of laughter explodes from Eddie, his head thrown back as he grabs Richie tightly. “I love you too,” he smiles. “Now,” he tugs Richie to the coffee table, “I brought you a nice big breakfast. Should be perfect for your hangover.”

“What?” Richie laughs, “What hangover?” As soon as he plops down on the couch he swallows his words, almost biting his tongue in half feeling his head bobble violently on his shoulders.

With a flourish Eddie pulls off the top of a silver platter, revealing a gorgeous golden omelet. The smell of cheese, ham, and peppers fill Richie’s nose. 

“Fuck,” Richie groans, half drooling.

“I thought you might like it,” Eddie grins, placing a hot paper cup in Richie’s hand. 

As Richie sips, Eddie’s hand brushes an errand curl behind Richie’s ear. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” Richie laughs, cutting into the omelet. “I mean, I barely remember last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie twirls his finger around the stubborn curl. 

“I mean,” Richie mumbles around a mouth full of food, swallowing before continuing, “I remember _most_ of it. Just the middle is a little - uh - fuzzy.” 

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, trailing his hand down to rub Richie’s back. Silence fills the room as Richie works his way through his omelet and coffee.

“Do you remember the pizza?” Eddie whispers, probing.

Richie pauses, mid-chew, before swallowing. It goes down slowly, painfully.

“Yeah,” he croaks, placing his utensils down to stare at his plate. After taking a deep breath, he presses forward, “We’re going to talk about it, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Eddie goes back to rub Richie’s back, “but not now. I told the others we’d meet them in the lobby in an hour. We should get ready.” 

Richie frowns, turning toward Eddie. “Get ready?” 

Eddie hums, “Yeah, Stan and Patty thought it would be a good idea to explore the city before we have to be at Bev’s shop. Patty suggested we got to the Art Institute.”

“Oh yeah? Loser’s Day Off?” Richie says, leaning in to Eddie’s side. 

“Yeah, Loser’s Day Off,” Eddie grins, curling into Richie’s side. Cupping his hands behind Riche’s head, he pulls him close to touch the tips of their noses together. “Wanna shower with me?”

Richie’s breath catches in his throat. Eddie’s hand pauses mid-twirl around one of Richie’s curls before pulling away. “We don’t hav-”

“No!” Richie yells, grabbing Eddie’s hand. “I mean...yeah,” he smiles, placing Eddie’s hand on his chest. “That sounds good.” 

**_‘DON’T’_ **

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Richie grins, mentally telling his brain to fuck off. “Wait,” he pauses, frowning, “you didn’t take a shower before going to breakfast?”

Eddie shrugs. “We’re on vacation. And besides,” he says, scooting closer to Richie, “I wanted to shower with my _boyfriend_.” 

A shiver runs down Richie’s spine. “Oh yeah?”

“Mh-hmm,” Eddie leans in closer, ghosting his lips over Richie’s, only to pull away when Richie shrugs forward. Grabbing Richie’s hand, Eddie tugs him toward the bathroom. “Come on, _handsome_. I want you naked and sopping wet.” 

/

“Mmmm,” Richie hums quizzically, tapping his forefinger dramatically against his chin as he stares at the broad strokes of yellow and blue in front of him. He knows the painting of the blue walls and the yellow bed is by Van Gogh, which practically gives him the answer.

A delicate laugh floats in the air next to him. “Sooo, what do you think?” Patty asks.

When Richie only hums deeper in response, she bumps her hip against his leg; her arm, which is drawn through Richie’s, tugs tighter. The combination of both josels Richie enough to place a small step out, catching his balance. He laughs, surprised at how much weight such a petite woman can throw around.

“Okay, okay!” he relents. “Uuuhh, post-impressionism?” 

“Yes, _The Bedroom_ by Van Gogh is peak post-impressionism. Very good!” Patty cheers. “You’re a quick learner.”

“Well, I have a good teacher.” He bows his head toward her.

“Well, thank you. Got to put my college degree to use at some point, right?” she laughs, pulling him into the next gallery.

The gallery is empty; they’re the only two people there, the only exception being the security guard standing at the opposite entrance. There is a delicate silence hanging in the air - although, in the distance they can hear yelling, most likely from the elementary school group stomping around a few galleries behind them.

They come to a stop in front of a small painting. It’s a simple scene - a white fireplace in an empty room. On top of the fireplace is a clock and two golden candle holders. Above the fireplace is a large golden framed mirror with nothing reflected in it. Instead of a glowing fire burning in the fireplace there is a miniature train steaming out into the room.

“What about this one?” Patty quizzes.

Richie clicks his tongue as he studies the simple geometric lines, the bare empty space of the floor and walls. Even the fireplace looks simple, ordinary, like it could be in any house - except there’s a steaming locomotive shooting out of the middle of it.

“You’re going easy on me, Patty, my dear.”

“Oh yeah?” she laughs.

“Yeah! This is surrealism,” he vaguely waves his hand toward the painting. “I mean, _come on_.”

“Okay, okay. I guess _Time Transfixed_ by Rene Magritte is a little easy. There is a train coming out of the fireplace,” she shrugs her shoulders.

They take a minute to just stand in front of the painting, enjoying the silence before the kids descend on them.

“You know,” Patty says, “Stan hates this painting.”

Richie’s boisterous laugh bounces around the room. He tries to stifle it behind his hands as the guard frowns in their direction, but it’s too late. His laugh is making its fifth rotation of the empty room by the time he can form words.

“No shit. I wonder _why_ ,” he sarcastically snorts.

Patty shares his knowing smile. “Actually, he hates Magritte in general. He’s much more of a Hopper fan. Oh! Actually, I think they have one here! Yes! They actually have _the_ Hopper!” 

With another tug, Richie and Patty shuffle out of the gallery. 

“Hopper. Hopper,” Richie mumbles, dutifully following Patty through gallery after gallery. 

He’s still searching the recesses of his brain as they pass BIll and Audra who are quietly contemplating a bronze statue in another gallery. 

“Oh! Hi, Bill! Hi Audra!” Richie yells. Patty is going so fast, they go by in a flash, their heads turning as Patty & Richie move to the next gallery. “Oh. Bye, Bill! Bye, Audra!”

They come to a screeching halt, Richie’s feet skidding on the marble floor. 

“Here we are!” Patty declares, extending her arms to present the painting in all its glory.

Realization sparks when he sees the dimly lit cafe. “OOOH! Hopper!”

“Yes, _Nighthawks._ _The_ Hopper!”

“Oh, well,” Richie pushes his glasses up his nose, putting on his Professor voice. “This is a classic example of social realism. The dimly lit diner, the lonely figures at the bar, the two street meeting up are all ways Hopper illustrated the lonely setting of suburban life.”

Patty delicately claps her hands. “Very good, very good.”

“Thank you,” Richie bows, “Thank you, my dear. Although you shouldn’t be too impressed. I think I read that on plaque somewhere. Maybe at that actual diner?”

“I’m surprised Stan isn’t in here,” she turns, looking around the gallery. “We actually have this painting hanging in our house. We like to argue about what time of night it is. Most people, including myself, would say it's in the dead of the night - due to the empty streets and how few people there are in the diner - but Stan argues that it’s closer to dusk, with how the light is shown on the opposite building and on the street.”

“Hmm, I can see that.” 

“I think he says that because of the bird though.”

“The bird?” He scans the painting.

Patty hums. “Yes. A nighthawk is a type of bird, you know?”

Richie snorts. “Of course it is.”

“Their name is actually a bit of a misnomer. They tend to hunt at dusk and dawn, not at night. And they’re not even related to hawks.”

“Ah, I see.” Richie turns back to the painting with fresh eyes. “Hence why he thinks the painting is depicting dawn.”

“Exactly. Now,” turning on her heel, Patty hums to herself, tapping her chin in thought, “what should we see next?”

“Can we see _my_ painting?” Richie suggests, excitement filling his chest.

“Oh! Of course!” She guides Richie out of the gallery, passing through gallery after gallery as they make their way deeper into the museum. “I hope it’s not too crowded. It’s one of the most visited pieces in the museum.”

“I’m sure.”

“Is that your favorite painting?” 

“Oh, wow.” Richie hesitates. “I’m not sure how to answer that. I’ve never really thought about what my favorite painting is. I’m not that sophisticated.”

“But you like it though?”

“I mean, yeah,” Richie scoffs, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like it for the same reason everyone else likes it. I saw it in a movie and it’s a pretty famous piece of art. Nothing too deep about it.”

Patty shrugs. “That doesn’t matter. Just because something is popular doesn’t mean that it's not a good piece of artwork. And, it doesn’t matter how you found it - whether it was through a movie, tv show, or a magazine. If you like it, then that’s good enough.”

“Huh, I never thought someone with an Art History degree would say that,” Richie teases. 

Patty laughs, “Yes, it’s a pretty _radical_ idea that Art Historians are starting to grapple with. That popular art can be good. My professors didn’t really like me cause I kept challenging them on it the whole time I was in school. Although, on the other hand, they might not have liked me cause I was actually spending my time _creating_ art instead of _studying_ it.”

“Why didn’t you become an art major?”

“Oh, cause my parents thought that meant I would be poor. I wouldn’t be able to make a living. They ended up ‘compromising’ - their words - on me studying art history. They thought I could get a degree, work at a notable museum for sometime, and then become a professor.” 

“Well you showed them, didn’t you? Teaching art at a high school,” Richie smirks.

“Yes, yes I did.”

They come to a stop in a crowded gallery. There is a swarm of people circled in front of a wall. 

They stand at the edge of the crowd, not pushing forward, just letting the crown slowly give way until they can see the million colored dots compiled together to create a beautiful sunny day by the river - _A Sunday Afternoon on the Island La Grande Jatte_ by Georges Seurat.

“Do you want to know another reason why my professors didn’t like me?” Patty adds.

“Mhm?”

“Cause my favorite painting is _Water Lilies.”_

Richie snorts, managing to keep the volume down. “By Monet? How _original_ , Patty.”

“I know,” she smirks. “I used to carry around all my textbooks in one of those bags you get from gifts shops. You know, the ones where they print paintings on the side? I carried around my _Water Lilies_ bag all four years of college. You should have _seen_ the looks I got from my professors! And some of my peers!” 

“Oh my god, Patty!” Richie places his hand over his heart in mock surprise. “You are a _troublemaker_!”

A sly smile spreads on Patty’s lips. “Only good trouble though.”

The crowd parts in front of them allowing a full view of the painting. 

“Wow,” Richie stares, taken back by its size and grandeur. “It’s bigger than I thought.”

“Yeah, it’s very impressive. It really commands the space. You need the whole room to stand back and appreciate it. Do you want a picture with it?”

“Oh! Yes, please!” He claps his hands, childlike. Handing Patty his phone, he rushes forward to stand in front of the stanchion ropes separating the painting from the crowd. “Cheeeeese!” He holds up a peace sign, smiling wide for the camera. 

“Perfect!” Patty gives him a thumbs up as she hands him back his phone. 

“Thanks,” Richie murmurs, grabbing his phone. He barely looks at the photo, not wanting to look at how much his body takes up the frame. Without thinking about it, he texts it to Eddie, quickly typing a caption underneath it.

Just as Richie is hitting send on his last text a figure comes to a stop next to them.

“Hi, how’s the tour going?” Stan asks softly.

“Oh! Hi, honey!”

“Stanny!” Richie beams. “I have you say Patty has been showing me a lovely time. She is a _fantastic_ teacher.” 

“Honey, we were just looking at _Nighthawks_! Have you seen it yet?” Patty asks, slipping her arm through Stans.

“No, not yet,” he smiles down at her. “I haven’t made it there yet.” He flicks the map in his hand.

“Don’t worry, Stan. It won’t hurt to skip ahead a few galleries,” Richie smirks. “By the way, where is Mikey? I thought he was with you?” He glances around, trying to catch sight of the tall man.

“He was,” Stan states slowly flips through the map, working out his route, “but I left him somewhere in Korean art. You know how Mikey gets - he has to read every single plaque, take multiple pictures of everything, and talk to all the security guards. He takes forever.”

“Oh yeah, _he_ takes forever.”

Stan frowns, clocking his eyes up to Richie for a brief second before going back to the map.

“Well,” Richie says, “I’m going to leave you two Agaporns-”

“Agapor-n _is_ ,” Stan corrects, emphasizing the last syllable. “I knew I was going to regret teaching you that.”

“Yes, Agapor- _niiisss_ ,” Richie slurs, really digging in hard at the end. “You two love birds. You two turtle doves. I’m going to go find Eds. See you two later.” He waves, slowly stepping back into the crowd.

“We’re going to meet up out front in an hour!” Stan adds before Richie has gotten too far.

“Sure, sure.”

As he zig-zags his way out of the crowd, he hears Patty behind him. “It’s this way, Stan. Oh, we don’t need that. I know the way, silly.”

Richie chuckles to himself, weaving his way out of the crowd to head further into the museum. He finds Eddie, alone in a gallery, standing in front of a painting.

Sneaking up behind Eddie, he slides his arms around Eddie’s waist. Eddie jumps in his arms, but his shock is gone in a second. Realizing it’s Richie, he relaxes, falling back into his arms.

“Well, look at this pretty piece of artwork I found,” Richie whispers against Eddie’s neck. “How much do you think I have to pay the museum to take it home with me?”

“Nothing,” Eddie turns in Richie’s arms, winding his arms around Richie’s neck. “You already get to take me home.” He leans up on his tip-toes, kissing Richie. “How was your history lesson?” Eddie pulls himself out of Richie’s embrace, a hand sliding down Richie’s arm to grasp Richie’s hand as he walks along the wall.

“Mhm, good,” Richie hums, gliding along behind Eddie. “Patty’s a very good teacher.” 

“I’m sure.”

They fall into an awkward silence as they slowly walk around the gallery, glancing at the artwork but not really looking. There’s been an unspoken awkwardness throughout the morning. A heavy weight that Richie’s been carrying around since he remembered what he confessed last night in a drunken stupor. Eddie knows it too, but he’s not pushing.

Richie falls behind Eddie’s step, just lazily following along. 

Eddie stops in front of a six foot tall bronze statue of a nude woman with her large breasts hanging freely with a deeply etched waist above curved, blossoming hips. Richie stops next to Eddie, crossing his arms, mimicking Eddie’s stance. He gnaws his lips, pretending to look at the statue His mind is buzzing too much - unnerved by the silence and from standing in one place for too long.

“Uuhh. Look, Eds,” Richie points at the statue, “it’s meee.” His voice goes high at the end, trying to make a joke of it.

Eddie’s eyes go comically wide, quickly shuffling between the statue and Richie.

“I - I mean,” Richie stutters, “Like - the breasts.” Cupping both hands he places them under this chest, heaving them.

Eddie just gapes at him, mouth completely unhinged.

“You know, cause I’m...fat.” The last word comes out as a whisper. 

Suddenly, the spell Eddie’s under is broken. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tilts his head back, breathing deeply. “Ok, ok,” he mumbles to himself, shaking out his arms as if he’s getting ready for a fight. “Ok, come on,” he grunts, grabbing Richie’s hand, tugging him away from the statue. 

“Eddie!?”

Eddie tugs Richie into the next gallery, snapping his head side to side. Once he confirms the gallery is empty, he slides to a stop. Turning on his heels, he snaps, “Ok! What was that!?”

“A joke? I mean, admittedly, it was a really bad-”

“Richie!” Eddie hisses.

“Whaaat!?”

“That’s not -” Eddies snaps, before cutting himself off. After taking a deep breath, he starts again - quieter, practically desperate this time. “That’s not what I mean.” 

“Uhh, ok, well-” Richie shuffles side to side. 

“Richie,” Eddie’s voice is soft, comforting. He looks so concerned, so lost. “Why - why would you say something like that?” Stepping closer, he grabs Richie’s hand.

“I mean,” Richie shrugs, “it’s true.” He holds Eddie’s hand, but he looks to the side.

“Rich-”

“It is. I’ve gotten fat. Nothing - None of my clothes fit anymore,” Richie rambles, his vision getting misty. “I have a literal muffin top. A big ‘ol spare tire. Bouncing tits-”

“Richie, stop!” Eddie jerks Richie, forcing him to look at him. Eddie’s own face is distraught, wet around his eyes. “Rich,” he whispers, “don’t say things like that.”

Richie hiccups. “But, it’s true.”

Eddie shakes his head, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

Soft mumbling, from a couple who just entered from the other side of the gallery, draws their attention. Richie is suddenly pulled forward, Eddie dragging him out of the gallery. They weave their way in and out of galleries, each filled with people, until they arrive in an empty hallway at the back of the building where the only options are the women’s bathroom or the stairwell. Eddie crashes through the door to the stairs, coming to a stop on the landing. The stairwell is bleak; nothing by concrete and cold metal handrails.

Richie looks down at his shoes, afraid of what Eddie’s going to say next.

**_‘This is where he breaks up with you. You’ll never even get the chance to ask him. That ring will sit in your sock drawer, just collecting dust, for the rest of your pathetic life.’_ **

“Richie,” Eddie whispers.

Richie gulps, trying to stop his tears. “Eds, please. Don’t-,” his sobs cut off his words, his tears making his vision hazy.

“Oh, Richie. Come here, baby.” Eddie pulls Richie into a tight hug, pressing Richie’s head down to rest on his shoulder. Richie feels so lost, completely broken. He grabs the back of Eddie’s shirt as a way to ground himself. Digging his nails in, he sobs, uncontrollably.

“You know I’ll never leave you, right?” Eddie’s breath tickles Richie’s neck. The only response Richie can manage is to nod into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie strokes Richie’s hair, “And you know I’ll love you no matter what, right?”

“Mh-hmm.”

“Okay, good. Here,” Eddie pulls back, placing his hand on the small of Richie’s back to guide him to the steps, “let’s sit down.”

Richie plunks down on the cold concrete step. Eddie shifts and turns his body until he’s curved around him - his legs are draped over Eddie’s legs with Eddie’s arms curved around Richie’s back, holding him to his side. Richie rests his head against Eddie’s shoulder, just breathing in his scent.

After a few minutes, Eddie breaks the silence, “Richie, baby, what’s going on? All those things you said last night and the way you’ve been acting the last few days-”

“I know,” Richie cringes, ashamed at what he’s put Eddie through. “I know. There’s just been...a lot.” Pulling his head up, he drags his hands down his face, “And I don’t know how to handle it or what I should fuckin’ do!” He waves his hands, Eddie-style.

“Hey, hey!” Eddie interrupts, grabbing Richie’s hands to pull them into his lap. “Hey, it’s ok, Rich. Why don’t you start from the beginning, yeah?”

“From the beginning?”

“Yeah, I mean, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure because of your Emmy nominations. I just don’t know where all of this is coming from. You’re not normally so...down on yourself?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow, frowning at his own choice of words. “Mean to yourself?”

“I mean, I can be kinda of an asshole sometimes.”

“Rich,” Eddie frowns.

“Okay, okay. Fuck, I don’t know how to say this,” he mumbles the last part. Gritting his teeth, he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look at Eddie. “Okay, listen. I was being honest earlier...about half of my clothes not fitting. You remember I had that big meeting with Liam a couple days ago?”

“Mh-hmm.”

“Well, I know it’s kinda stupid but I kinda wanted to look nice for the meeting.” Richie blushes, curling into himself, half in embarrassment and half because of his little white lie.

“That’s not stupid. You knew Liam had something important to tell you.” 

“Yeah, well, anyway, I went to put on something nice and - uuuhh - nothing fit,” he spits out. Cringing, he forces himself to go on. “I kept trying things on, one after the other, but everything was too fucking tight. I mean, I couldn’t even zip up my fucking pants! I was already running late by the time I realized half of my clothes were on the floor. I ended up going to the meeting in clothes that were too fuckin’ small, which was fuckin’ horrible cause it was practically cutting off my circulation. So...yeah, I guess that’s what I get for lying around the house all summer in my shorts and t-shirts, eating nothing but Taco Bell and McDonalds. So, yeah, there you have it. You have a fat boyfriend,” he huffs, out of breath.

“Oh, Richie. I’m - I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that happened. But, you know, it’s not a big deal if some of your clothes don’t fit-”

“Not _some_ , Eddie! Half! _Half_ of my clothes!” Richie groans, pulling his legs off of Eddie’s lap. “Which means it’s all of the really nice ones! Not my gross ‘walking around the house’ clothes. No! The ones that actually need to fit!” 

“Ok, fine. Half. But it’s not a big deal. We’ll just go buy you new clothes,” Eddie says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh my god, that’s so fuckin’ embarrassing!” Richie grips his hair, kicking his legs out, childlike, in protest.

“Richie, who the fuck is going to-”

“Wait,” Richie interrupts. “You didn’t say I wasn’t fat.”

“What?”

“When I said I was fat, you didn’t say ‘No, Richie'”, he voice goes high, purposely not doing his best Eddie impression, “‘You’re not fat.’ No, no! What you said is 'it’s not a big deal if some of my clothes don’t fit.’ Which _means_ you do think I’m _fat_!” Richie gasps, turning to see Eddie biting his lip, his eyes shifting uncomfortably. “Oh my god, YOU DO THINK I’M FAT! That’s why you’ve been calling me ‘big guy’!?”

“Wait, what!? No! Richie!” Eddie yells, his hand flying out to grab Richie but Richie’s too fast.

Jumping to his feet, out of Eddie’s grasp, he starts to pace the little landing. “Oh my god, Eddie!” 

Eddie’s up, trying to step closer to Richie but Richie keeps dodging Eddie’s flying hands. “Richie, please-”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything!?” Richie clutches his hair, practically tearing it at the roots.

“Cause it doesn’t MATTER!” Eddie yells. “Have you gained weight? Yes. Did I notice? Yes. Do I care? Fuck no! _I don’t care_ that when you wear those old ass basketball shorts you have a little muffin top that bulges over the side. _I don’t care_ that I sink into you a little bit more when I lay on top of you. _I don’t care_ that there’s a little bit more skin on your thigh for me to bite into. So, no! I didn’t say anything.” 

“Huuuh-” Richie stares at Eddie, lost for words.

Eddie takes Richie’s stunned silence as an opportunity to step forward. He wraps his arms around Richie’s waist, tilting his head up to rest his chin on Richie’s chest. “I thought it was obvious how much I love your body. I was pretty vocal about it the other night,” Eddie grins, his fingers digging into Richie’s sides.

“Oh, well,” Richie gulps “You know how I’m not very good at taking compliments.” 

“I guess I’ll just have to be more vocal, huh?” Eddie’s grin stretches wider, his fingers walking down Richie’s side before both his hands slide flat into Richie’s back pockets, grabbing a handful of Richie’s ass.

Richie lets out a slow breathe, “Fuck, baby. So, you - huh-” He loses track of what he was saying for a second when Eddie squeezes his ass again. “You really don’t mind having a fat boyfriend?”

“Richie,” Eddie huffs, his hands easing up a little bit but never leaving Richie’s pockets. “You gained some weight. But so what? You’re not _obese_ , and I mean that in a medical sense. You’re not at any risk of having a heart attack or impeding your life just cause you had Taco Bell two days in a row.”

“Are you sure? Cause I can make it three.”

“Yes,” Eddie chuckles, “I’m sure. Don’t you think I would say something if I actually thought you were at risk of having a heart attack? I would be all over you, and not in a good way, if I thought you were anywhere close to that point. Okay?”

Richie nods, “Okay.” Richie rests his head on Eddie’s.

“You shouldn’t be so mean to yourself about it. It happens to everyone. I mean, even Ben has gained a little bit of his weight back.”

Richie snorts, “Yeah, I mean, love can do that to a man.”

Eddie knocks his head against Richie’s chest, laughing. Once his body has stopped shaking with laughter he rests his head against Richie’s chest, taking a moment before looking back up, a serious look in his eye. “I just, I don’t like that you think about yourself that way.” 

Richie shrugs, “I don’t know. I just...don’t feel good about myself. Like physically. Not like I ever have, but I guess, seeing all of the clothes I’ve - uh - grown out of just doesn’t make me feel very good about myself. I mean, what the fuck am I going to do about it?” Richie snorts, “Go on a _diet_ ? Start _exercising_?”

“You could. You don’t _need_ to, but you could if it would make you feel better about yourself.”

“Are you fucking serious? There’s no way that I could go on a diet? Drink juice for two weeks straight? I don’t have that kind of self control. And exercise? No way.”

“No, no. You don’t need to do any of that shit. You don’t need to go all _Hollywood_ ,” Eddie mocks, rolling his eyes.

“Hollywood?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to start _juicing_ and doing fuckin’ _Crossfit_.”

“Yeah, never happening.”

“I just mean it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Maybe we can start eating in a little more, and start taking more walks in the evening. That’s all. You can still eat at Taco Bell and play video games all evening if you want. You don’t need to feel like you’re sacrificing your whole life for it.”

“Oh,” Richie blinks. “Well, when you put it like that. Although, I don’t think we’ll ever find a form of exercise that I actually _like_. Don’t even think about asking me to go running with you.”

Eddie snorts. “Didn’t even cross my mind.”

Richie leans his head down, rubbing their noses together. “Thanks, baby,” Richie says softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Eddie hums, rubbing his nose against Richie’s. “Of course, _handsome_. Anytime.” 

“It’s still going to be embarrassing to buy a whole other wardrobe.”

Eddie shakes his head, dragging their noses together more harshly. “Well, we can make it into a date night. A few date nights, actually.”

“You’re a genius, love.”

Eddie rocks forward, leaning up on his tip-toes to press his lips to Richie’s. Richie moans, pulling Eddie tight against his chest. 

“You know,” Richie moans, between kisses, “I think I saw an old fashioned canopy bed on the first floor. Wanna check it out?”

Eddie laughs, the sound of it ringing in Richie’s ears and in the tiny stairwell. “Save it for tonight, Tozier.” Eddie kisses Richie again, swiping his tongue inside Richie’s mouth this time. Eddie pulls back, leaving Richie’s puckered mouth as he rocks back down on his feet. “What else?”

“Huh?” Richie blinks, coming back to himself.

“What else has been bothering you? You said something about John last night. That you thought Liam was replacing you? What was that about?”

“Oh, that. That’s just a dumb thought that ran through my head when I felt like a fat cow. Oww!” Richie jerks away from Eddie’s pinching fingers.

“Don’t say things like that. And I’m sure it’s not dumb.”

“It’s _pretty_ dumb.”

“Tell me.” 

“I don’t know,” Richie kicks the floor, bashfully, “It just really surprised me when I found out that John was joining the company. It’s not like John and I are - uh - rivals or anything, it’s just John and I have been in the biz for the same amount of time. We started working at clubs at the same time, and I don’t know, his career just kind of took off. He’s written for amazing shows, he’s hosted SNL like three fucking times, and he’s won I don’t know how many Emmys! He’s a friend, but I’ve always been a little _jealous_ of him?” Richie cringes, feeling like a stupid teenager. “Also, he’s skinny. The asshole. Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Eddie rubs his hand up and down Richie’s back in a comforting motion. “It’s natural to compare yourself to others, but I think you and John are completely different. You had to completely restart your career. And you’re way fucking funnier than him, so there.”

Richie snorts. “Thanks, babe.”

“No, _really_ ,” Eddie urges, jostling Richie. “I mean it, Rich. You’re so fucking funny. And you make people so happy and it makes me _so mad_ that people are just starting to realize that now. And you totally deserve your Emmy nominations. And I know, _I know_ ,” Eddie pulls Richie, who automatically started to pull away, back to him “,that you don’t like to hear that. You don’t think it’s a big deal but it is a big deal! You’re a genius at what you do, and you deserve to be recognized for it.”

Richie shuffles, squirming in Eddie’s arms. “But...what if I don’t win? Everyone keeps saying ‘you’re going to win, you’re going to win,’ but I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” he whispers.

“You’re not going to disappoint anyone if you don’t win, Rich. Your friends are still going to love you. And if anyone is disappointed they can go fuck themselves.” 

A wet laugh shakes Richie. 

“Feel better?” 

Richie sniffs, “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Of course. Anytime, _baby_ ,” Eddie purrs.

Richie twitches, an automatic response to Eddie calling him ‘baby’. 

“Sooo, do you wanna know why I started calling you ‘big guy’?” Eddie says as he lazily draws a circle on Richie’s chest.

“It’s not because I’m a fatty?”

“What? No! Do you remember our date night when we went to get Korean BBQ?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Richie chuckles. “That was hot. Both the food and _after_.”

“Remember holding me up against the wall? Mhm?” Eddie pulls Richie’s head down to whisper in his ear. “You remember holding me up and fucking me into the wall? Yeah? You remember how loud I was? Moaning your name the whole time? Huh? Fuck, I thought you were going to break me through the wall with how hard you were fucking me.”

Richie moans, squeezing Eddie tighter. “Fuck yeah, I remember. That was so fucking hot, baby. Jesus, your legs wrapped around me.” Richie’s hand cups Eddie’s ass, digging his fingers in.

“Mhmmm, well that’s why I started calling you ‘big guy.’ My _big, strong man_ ,” he punctuates each word, squeezing Richie’s biceps. “So strong he can hold me up against a wall.”

“Fuck, baby. You’re getting me all riled up.”

“Well,” Eddie chuckles, pulling back, “you’re going to have to save that for later, handsome. Stan is blowing up my phone.”

/

Richie stares at the dark blue suit hanging in front of him. Even though he’s in nothing but his boxers, he’s sweating. His stomach is churning with nerves, afraid at how the fabric is going to squeeze his body. He can only imagine the wedding photos - a beautiful glowing bride, a happy beaming groom, both surrounded by four handsome gentlemen and one fat man.

Letting out a long dramatic sigh, he pulls the pants off of the hanger, stuffing his legs through each of the legs. He tugs them up, not bothering to zip them up just yet - wanting to put that moment off as long as possible. He rustles the white shirt on, taking a moment to suck in a breath, pumping himself up before starting to button up his shirt. The higher he goes, buttoning one after the other, he waits for the inevitable moment when the shirt starts to bite into his skin. 

As he pulls the top button through, he’s left feeling...comfortable. Looking down in confusion, he rolls his shoulders and then lifts his arms up. Surprisingly nothing is biting or constricting his movements. Furrowing his brow, he zips up his pants. Again, nothing. He twists his torso and then squats down, deep into the pants. 

He’s at a complete loss. Pulling on this blazer, he wonders if he’s suddenly lost 20 pounds between this morning and now.

“Rich?” Eddie’s voice calls from the other side of the curtain.

“Yeah?” Richie responds as he looks at himself in the mirror.

“Are you decent? Can I come in?”

“Baby, when am I ever decent?” 

He hears Eddie huff in fond annoyance as he pulls back the curtain, enough to duck underneath. Through the mirror he sees Eddie pause, mid-step, when he catches sight of Richie. 

“Ooh,” Eddie, dressed in a matching dark blue suit, walks slowly toward Richie. Richie turns, blushing as Eddie racks his eyes up and down Richie’s body. “You look so _handsome_ , baby,” he purrs, slotting his arms underneath Richie’s, placing his hands on the small of Richie’s back.

“Mhmm. You look pretty good yourself, sweetheart.” Humming, Richie winds his arms around Eddie.

“Thanks.” Leaning up on his tip-toes, Eddie plants a soft kiss under Richie’s jaw before whispering in his ear, “You look so hot, Richie. I can’t wait to get you out of this.” 

“Fuck, baby, do I really look that good?”

Falling back onto his feet, Eddie runs his hands up Richie’s chest, pushing back his blazer, revealing his broad chest. “Fuck yeah,” Eddie breathes out unevenly. 

Richie growls, “Wanna do a quickie?” He sweeps his hands down Eddie’s back, grabbing his ass in both hands. 

A laugh burst out of Eddie. “Richie! We’re in Bev’s studio!” 

“She’d understand.” Richie dips down, capturing Eddie’s lips in a heated kiss.

“Guys! Come on!” Bill’s annoyed voice calls. “We have a dress rehearsal we need to get to!”

“Ok! Ok!” Eddie yells, exasperated as he pulls away from Richie. Grabbing Richie’s hand he pushes back the dressing room curtain in a flourish, revealing three other Losers dressed in matching blue suits.

“Hey!” Mike smiles. “Richie! You look great!”

“Thanks,” Richie says, sheepishly. 

While he can admit the suit does look good on him, it looks way better on Eddie, Bill, Mike, and Stan. Each look handsome and distinguished. Richie feels like a kid playing dress up.

“Oh, you boys look so handsome!” Audra says. 

“Yes,” Patty nods, smiling. “Oh, we should take a picture!”

“Oh, yes! Yes!” Audra combs through her purse, looking for her phone. 

“Oh, we don’t have to...” Richie trails off, feeling uneasy at the idea of a photo. He didn’t shave that morning.

“Nonsense!” Audra waves, still looking for her phone. “We need to send it to Bev to show her how good you boys look in her suits!”

“Oh, Rich, we need to put your tie on.” He steps quickly into the dressing room, coming back out with a blue tie. “C’here,” Eddie waves, beckoning Richie forward. 

After whipping the tie over Richie’s head Eddie turns up Richie’s collar, slipping the tie underneath it. Richie’s eyes are glued to Eddie, completely entranced by the way Eddie bites his lip in concentration as he folds, slips, and tugs the tie around Richie’s neck. 

“You really do look good, baby,” Richie whispers, slipping his hands around Eddie’s waist.

Eddie smirks, his eyes quickly bouncing up to Richie and then back down to Richie’s tie. “Thanks, Rich.” He tugs the knot, clinching it tight. He pats against Richie’s chest, grinning up at him. “There. All good.”

“Alright! Alright! Pictures!” Audra yells, waving them to join the others. 

Eddie and Richie shuffle to stand next to Bill, Mike, and Stan; all of them smiling as multiple flashes blind them. 

Audra flips through the photos. “Perfect!”

“Oh, you should send one to Bev!” Patty adds, looking at the photos over Audra’s shoulder.

“Je-sus.” With his glasses in one hand, Richie rubs his eyes. “I can’t see anything.”

“When can you ever see anything?” Stan retorts. 

“Oh! _Good one_ , Stanny,” Richie snorts, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Excuse me? Mr. Tozier? Mr. Kaspbrak?” An assistant, holding two garment bags, steps up.

“Huh? Yeah?” Richie frowns, eyeing the garment bags as he slips on his glasses.

“Ms. Marsh would like you both to try these on.” The assistant holds the garment bags. 

Richie chuckles, confused. “What? Did she want to give us a second option? Oh! Even better! Do we get matching suits!?”

Eddie frowns, “We already have matching suits.”

“No, no! Like for couples! Couples matching outfits.”

“Oh my god,” Stan moans in the background. 

“Huh,” the assistant shuffles awkwardly, completely taken back, “No, no. Ms. Marsh made these for your upcoming ceremony.” 

“Ceremony?” Richie frowns, wracking his brain. 

Eddie gasps, grabbing Richie’s arm. “For the Emmys!?” 

Richie gapes. “No fucking way.” 

The assistant stutters, uncertain how to respond. He simply just holds out the two bags, allowing Eddie and Richie to take them.

Walking into the dressing room, Richie pulls the curtain shut, putting the suit on the hanger as he stares at the black bag. He delicately unzips the bag revealing a deep purple blazer with thick black wingtip lapels. Reaching into the bag, he pushes the blazer off the hanger, revealing a luscious floral lining, made of bright pinks, deep greens, and glowing yellows. He smiles, his eyes getting misty as he runs his hand over the silky fabric. Bev’s really outdone herself this time.

After he puts on his clothes, he stares at himself in the mirror surprised by how much he actually _likes_ how he looks in the suit. The fit is just like his groomsmen outfit, but this is much more...Richie. Underneath his purple blazer he’s wearing a black button-on shirt on top of black pants, both accentuating the colorful top. 

“Rich?” It’s Eddie again.

Richie pulls back the curtain revealing Eddie in a burgundy suit, red pants and blazer on top of a bright white shirt with a black tie and shiny black shoes. At the sight of Richie, Eddie’s eyes go wide. 

Richie whistles. “Damn, baby. If I win I should send you up on stage. You look like someone who actually deserves to win!”

Eddie halfheartedly swats at Richie, a grin on his face. “Stop it! Jesus, Richie.” Eddie pauses as his eyes drift down Richie’s body. Reaching out he rests his hand on Richie’s hip, tugging him forward out of the dressing room. “You look fucking incredible.”

“Holy shit!” Mike says as he walks out of his dressing room tugging down the collar on his polo. “You guys look great!”

“Oh my gosh!” Patty gasps. “Those are designed perfectly for you!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Richie blushes, bowing his head.

“Oh my gosh, we need to take some pictures and send them to Bev!” Patty says, flicking through her phone. “Alright, come one. Get in, get in.” She waves her free hand, motioning them to stand closer to each other.

Richie and Eddie shuffle together, side stepping until their hips bump. Richie winds his arms behind Eddie’s back, tugging him in closer just as Eddie rests his hand on Richie’s lower back.

“Aright, boys, smile!” Patty smiles, tapping her phone a few items. Thankfully there’s no flash this time. “Oh, you two look so handsome,” Patty coos, looking down at her phone. “Ok, a couple more!”

“Whhaaat,” Richie moans, feigning annoyance. 

“Come on, Rich,” Bill says, stepping up behind Patty to look at the photos. “You gotta practice your red carpet poses.”

Richie groans, louder this time. “Yeah? Got any pointers Big Bill?” He’s been to a couple of award ceremonies and galas in his time - although nothing as big as the Emmys - and the one thing he hates is posing for photos. He has no idea what to do with hands, so ultimately they dangle, pathetically, at his sides. 

“Here, let me,” Audra jumps in, grabbing Richie lightly by the waist to angle him and Eddie toward each other. “Now,” she directs toward Richie, “push back your blazer by putting a hand in your pocket so people can see that gorgeous lining Bev designed. There. Perfect. Real casual. Yes, yes! Just like that!” Backing up slowly, making sure nothing is out of place, she stands next to Patty. The rest of the gang have huddled up behind them.

“Oh, Audra, you’re so good at that,” Patty smiles as she takes picture after picture.

Audra shrugs. “I’ve had some experience walking the red carpet. I keep trying to couch Bill, but it doesn’t really take,” she laughs.

“Heeey,” Bill whines.

“It’s ok, sweetie,” Audra says, sweetly hugging his arm. “You’re always so sweet to come with me. I know you would much rather stay home and write.” 

“What? No, of course not,” Bill mumbles.

This whole time Patty has been taking picture after picture, moving around to shoot at different angles. After a few more shots, she stands. “Ok,” she says, giving them the thumbs up. “We’re good!”

“Wait!” Richie yelps as Eddie starts to pull away from him. “One more set! Real quick."

“Really?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, come one,” Richie smirks, grabbing Eddie around his waist, shifting him in front of him. Richie steps up behind him, winding his arms around Eddie’s waist, tucking his head into the dip of Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Eddie huffs, although it’s laced with fondness. “Reeeallly?”

“Yeah, come on, babe,” Richie whispers into Eddie’s ear. “The prom pose is a classic.”

Eddie laughs, placing his hands on top of Richie’s. “Ok, just for you.”

Richie quickly pecks Eddie’s cheek, love burning in his chest. “Love you, babe,” he whispers before turning back to grin at the camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Didn’t mean to give an art lesson in this, but I really like the idea of Patty being an artist/art teacher. The idea of Stan - the straight-laced boy scout - falling for a pretty, independent art student? *Chef kisses* I also think Richie and Patty would be the best of friends and would immediately click, which Stan would totally approve of, so I had to write a section with them.
> 
> References:  
> All of the paints I referenced are located at the Art Institute of Chicago:
> 
> The Van Gogh painting of the blue walls and yellow bed is The Bedroom.  
> https://www.artic.edu/artworks/28560/the-bedroom
> 
> The painting with the fireplace and train is Time Transfixed by Rene Magritte  
> https://www.artic.edu/artworks/34181/time-transfixed
> 
> The painting with the diner is Nighthawks by Edward Hopper  
> https://www.artic.edu/artworks/111628/nighthawks
> 
> A Nighthawk is a type of bird! They can be found in North & South America
> 
> Richie’s painting is A Sunday Afternoon on the Island La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat.  
> https://www.artic.edu/artworks/27992/a-sunday-on-la-grande-jatte-1884
> 
> The bronze statue of the nude women that Eddie & Richie are looking at is Woman (Elevation) by Gaston Lachaise  
> https://www.artic.edu/artworks/58839/woman-elevation
> 
> The movie that Richie and Patty are referencing is Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. 
> 
> “Agapornis” is a type of small parrot that is typically referred to as a Lovebird.


	4. Chapter Four

The Best Part of Me (Is You)

Chapter Four

Richie’s POV

  
  


“Wait, what kind of knot are we doing?” Bill asks over his shoulder, looking away from his own reflection in the mirror.

“The Windsor,” Stan throws back over his shoulder, where he's sitting playing cards with Mike.

Bill frowns in concentration, practicing.

A soft knocking sound comes from Stan & Mike’s corner.

“There’s no way you’re knocking so soon!” Mike groans, looking down at these cards.

“Read it and weep,” Stan smirks, laying out his groups of cards on the table.

Mike lets out a big sigh, resigned as he starts laying off cards onto Stan’s.

“Wow, you had a shitty hand, Mikey.”

“Shut it, Stan.” 

Out of the corner of the room, Bill groans in frustration, his tie twisted and knotted. 

“Here, let me help,” Eddie gets up from the couch where he's been sitting with Richie, to help.

Richie, already dressed his pants and shirt, thumbs through this phone. He’s been sucked into watching cats videos on instagram, constantly thumbing to one after another. Every minute or so a dark figure keeps passing back and forth in front of him, throwing a shadow on his screen before it moves on and loops back again.

On the fourth trip back, Richie huffs in annoyance, throwing his phone down. “Ben, my man, you gotta calm down.”

Ben’s head snaps toward Richie. “Wha - what?”

“You’re going to wear a spot into the carpet, haystack. It’s going to be _fine_!”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Sure,” Ben nods his head, although he doesn’t look convinced.

Unlike the others, Ben is fully dressed, even though the ceremony is still an hour and a half away. He’s already wearing his dark blue suit, his vest, tie, and blazer. The only thing he’s missing is his boutonnière.

Nodding to himself in self-concentration, Ben begins to pace again.

Slumping back into the couch, Richie let’s Ben continue his endless pacing. Richie’s heart goes out to Ben. He can only imagine what emotions he’s going through. For some strange reason, he’s nervous too. Just as nervous as Ben, even though this isn’t his wedding day. 

Restless, Richie stands up. “I’m gonna go check on Bev.”

“They might not be done taking photos, Rich,” Mike says.

“That’s ok. I’ll stay out of the way. Promise.” He locks eyes with Eddie, who gives him the “behave” look. Richie grins, backing out of the door into the tiny hallway. 

As he makes his way down the hall he can feel the slight tilt and sway of the ship rocking in the waves. In true Ben and Ben style they chartered a three hundred foot, four floor yacht to cruise around Lake Michigan during sunset for their two hundred guests. 

As Richie gets closer to the door at the other end of the hallway he can hear laughter on the other side. He knocks, breaking up the laughter. 

“Who is it?” someone calls.

“It’s Richiiee!”

An older woman opens the door, greeting Richie with a smile. “Richie! Why, aren’t you looking handsome!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hanscom. May I come in?” 

“Of course, of course.” She opens the door, revealing a group of women - Audra, Patty, and Bev’s friend, Kay - surrounding Bev dressed in a long white lace dress with her long burning red hair bundled in the back.

“Hi ladies,” Richie grins.

“Are the boys decent?” Mrs. Hanscom asks. “I think I should take a peek in on Benny before the ceremony. Get some of my tears out before the ceremony, you know.”

“Mrs. Hanscom, your boy is _always_ decent.” 

“I think I’ll join you, Mrs. Hanscom,” Patty adds. “Audra?”

“Oh, yes, coming!” Audra calls, adjusting the bottom of Bev’s dress before she runs out the door, joining the other ladies.

“I’m gonna go check with the Coordinator. See if everything is going ok. You good?” Kay tilts her head at Bev. 

“Yes. Thank you, Kay.” Bev smiles, squeezing Kay’s hand before she heads out the door.

And then, it’s just Richie and Bev. 

“Damn, Red.” Richie walks toward Bev, taking her outstretched hands. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thanks, Trashmouth.”

“Seriously, Bev. You’re going to give Ben a heart attack.” 

Bev’s laugh rings out in the small room, only slightly louder than the crashing waves blowing in from the open port hole. Her laughter dies off into a shallow ragged breath. She looks nervous, something which is unusual for Bev. She never lets anything affect her, and even if something does, she never lets it show. 

Sucking in a breath, she looks up at Richie, “You know, the first time I got married, I hated my dress. It was uncomfortable and it didn’t feel like me. The whole night, I couldn’t wait to take the damn thing off. It felt like I was wearing someone else’s dress.”

Feeling her hands shake, Richie grips Bev's hands tighter.

“And, of course,” she continues, “that’s cause I was. Tom had picked out the dress. Tom had picked out the wedding venue, the catering, and all the flowers. Fuck, he even told me who I should have as my bridesmaids.”

“Hey, hey,” Richie lightly shakes Bev’s hands, pulling her out of her memories. “Don’t cry, Bev.”

Bev nods, gulping back her tears. “I just...I’m just trying to say that _this_ ,” she motions to her dress and the room, “it feels nothing like that. This...this is right.”

“I bet Ben just smiled and nodded through the whole planning phase, didn’t he?”

Bev laughs, brushing the corner of her eyes. “He’s been so sweet.” A somber look crosses her face. “He’s always been so sweet.”

“Yeah,” Richie nods, knowing what she’s thinking. “Remember that time Ben tackled Bowers? Fucking nailed him.”

They chuckle, remembering the apocalyptic “Rock War.” Their laughter fades off, Bev staring at their still joined hands.

“Sometimes,” Bev whispers, “I wish I could take the last twenty-seven years back. I wish I - _we_ \- never forgot each other. I never would have wasted so much of my life on someone as,” she hisses in a sharp breath, “as _disgusting_ as Tom. I could have found Ben much sooner, which is stupid to say cause he was always _right there_. I was just too stupid to see it.”

“Hey, hey,” Richie grabs Bev’s shoulders, making her look at him. “None of that matters now, yeah? I mean - I wish the same thing too - but in the end we found each other again. And you and Ben have each other now. And you know, Ben would have waited forever for you. Like literally _forever_ , Bev, so don’t even fret about that.”

“Yeah, kinda like how you would have waited forever for Eddie?” She grins, shrugging off her gloomy attitude.

Richie gulps, feeling his cheeks burn. “That obvious, huh?”

“Oh, no. No, _not at all_.” Her voice is laced with sarcasm.

“Shut uuupp,” he whines, pushing her shoulder in jest.

“Heey,” she whines in return, “be nice. It’s my wedding day.” Pouting her lips, she bats her eyelashes.

“Fine, fine,” Richie huffs, rolling his eyes. “But that just means you have to be nice to me on my wedding day.” He groans the minute it comes out of his mouth.

Bev gasps. “Rich-ARD! You better not have asked Eddie to marry you and _not have told any of us_!” She stabs a finger into Richie’s chest.

“No, no! God! Fuck! Why did I even say that!? I haven’t even asked him yet, ok!? God, would you - stop - poking me!” Shuffling backwards, he swats away Bev’s accusing finger. 

“Good! I would have killed you if you did!” A devilish grin pulls at her lips as she loops her arm through his. “Now, tell me everything. Have you bought a ring? Do you know how you’re going to ask him?”

“God, what is this? 20 questions?”

“Richie,” she pokes him in the stomach. “Tell me!”

“Ok, ok! I bought him a ring, but I don’t have it yet. I literally picked it out the day before we got here.”

“Ooooh! Do you have a picture?”

“Well, no. I was too afraid to have it on my phone in case Eddie saw it. But, I can show it to you online.” 

Bev leans in close as Richie pulls up a photo of the minimalist ring. The exterior is white gold with a matte finish and square edges; the inside of the ring is a brilliant cooper.

“Ooh, Richie! It’s perfect. You did an amazing job,” she smiles up at him.

“Thanks,” Richie says, scratching the back of his head. “I even got something engraved on the inside.”

“R+E?” she grins, knowingly.

“Jesus! How the fuck does everyone know about that!?”

She shrugs. “It was your phone backdrop forever.” She pulls away, but adds over her shoulder, “And, Ben might have told me about your...request.” 

“That motherfucker,” Richie mumbles to himself.

“Soooo, how are you doing to ask him?” 

“Oh, I have no fucking clue.” 

“Really?” Bev frowns.

“Really. I’m just trying to take this one step at a time, ok? It took me _months_ to work up the courage to just buy a ring. Who knows how long it’ll take me to work up the courage to _actually ask him!_ ”

“Why? You know he’s going to say yes.”

“No! No, I _do not_ know that!”

Bev rolls her eyes. “ _Oh my god_ , Richie! Yes, you do! Eddie loves you.”

“I know _that_ , but that doesn’t mean he wants to marry me. I mean, his last marriage was a disaster. Maybe he doesn’t want to go through all that shit again.” 

“That’s because he married someone he didn’t love! That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to get married ever again. Hey, trust me on this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bev nods. “He’s crazy about you. You should see how he’s been staring at you _all weekend_. Like he’s thinking about the same thing.” She wags her eyebrows up and down teasingly. 

“Oh my god. Stop. I might die.” Richie grabs his burning cheeks like a schoolgirl. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re such a sap.” 

“I hate you,” Richie huffs, not really meaning it of course.

Just as Bev opens her mouth to reply, a knock comes from the door. 

Kay pops her head in. “It’s almost time.”

“Ok. Thanks, Kay. We’ll be right out.” Bev nods, giving Kay the signal to go back out.

“Ok, well, I guess I’ll go back and join the guys,” Richie wipes his sweaty hands on his pants, slowly shuffling his way to the door.

“Richie! Wait!”

With his hand on the door knob, Richie turns back. “Yeah?”

“I - I wanted to ask if - if you would walk me down the aisle?” 

Richie’s mouth comes unhinged. “I’m sorry. You want me to...what?”

“Walk me down the aisle?”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?”

“I - I-,” Richie stumbles. “What about the others? _Any_ of the others?”

“I know. I could ask any of the others, but I want you to walk me down the aisle,” she grabs his hand, “I love all of you the same-”

“Except Ben,” Richie interrupts.

“ _Yes_ , except Ben,” she rolls her eyes before continuing, “BUT you’ve always been...my partner in crime.” 

Richie grins, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. 

“Yeah, well, you always had the best ideas, Bev. Couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

“Exactly. You were always the first one to go along with my crazy ideas.”

“Oh, no! No, no! _Ben and Bill_ were always the first ones to go along with your crazy ideas. It’s like they were always competing with each other on who could raise their hand first. Like they were trying to-”

“Ok, ok! I get it!” She lazily swats at him.

“I mean, they would have done anything if you had suggested it! They would have jumped off a bridge!”

“OK! I get it, you big jerk!” 

“Ok, ok. Go on. You were saying.”

“Ok, what I was _saying_ is that you were always the first - and, _yes_ , after Bill & Ben - to go along with my crazy ideas. It’s like you were my…,” she pauses, searching for the right word, “...my linchpin.”

“Linchpin?”

“Yeah. Cause if I got you, then I got Eddie. And, if I got you and Eddie, then I got Stan. Stan would know that you and Eddie would tease him endlessly if he didn’t go along. And, if I got Stan, then I got Mike. Mike never wants to be left out of anything that involves the whole group.” 

“Wow,” Richie blinks, surprised. “You evil little…”

Bev shrugs with a wide grin on her face. “So, you see, you’re my linchpin. None of you have really changed.”

“Well, huh, thank you.”

“And,” Bev grins falls, becoming more serious, “I have always felt like you’ve understood me in a way none of the others have. You and I know what it’s like to get in trouble or get blamed for something that’s not our fault. The number of times you and I were in detention together for something we didn’t do! It was a weekly thing.”

“Like when Greeta would pretend you kicked her chair or something? The teacher would just assume you did it?”

“Or when Bowers would throw a spitwad at the black board and the teacher would just assume you did it?”

“Yeah, just two easy scapegoats. That’s us.”

“I always felt better when you were in detention with me. So I wouldn’t be alone.”

“Me too, Red. Me too,” Richie smiles.

“So, what do you say? Will you walk me down the aisle?”

Richie gulps back a sob. “I would be honored, Bev.”

/

The whole top deck of the 300 hundred foot yacht has been transformed into a reception floor - circular tables fill the deck with Ben & Bev sitting at a sweetheart table at the bow of the ship. Right below their table is the dance floor. The five Losers - Richie, Eddie, Mike, Stan, & Bill, along with Patty & Audra - are sitting at a large table at the edge of the dance floor, right next to Ben & Bev. They have a stellar view of downtown Chicago which is twinkling against the orange and pink sunset. While the view is breathtaking, their attention is currently locked on Bev and Ben, who are swaying on the dance floor. It’s their first dance.

Richie snorts, taking a sip from his champagne glass. “I can’t _believe_ they choose this song as their first dance.”

The sound of New Kids on the Block’s _I’ll Be Loving You (Forever)_ fills the evening air. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mike grins, “I think this is the perfect Ben & Bev song.”

“Do you guys remember how Ben tried to hide how much he loved _New Kids on the Block_ when he first joined the group?” Bill asks, smiling at the memory.

“What? You mean the _three days_ before we all found out?” Eddie laughs. 

“It wasn’t exactly a secret,” Stan joins in. “He hums under his breath when he’s thinking.”

“Aw, I used to _love_ New Kids on the Block!” Patty giggles.

“Oh yeah? Who was your favorite?” Richie asks, leaning forward.

“Oh my gosh, I had the _biggest_ crush on Jonny.”

“Whaaat?” Stan frowns, turning toward Patty.

“What? I just loved his _attitude_ and _style_.” She twists her body to the beat to the music. “It was just a silly girl crush.” She bats her hand, ignoring Stan’s frown.

As the song comes to an end there’s an uproar of clapping and whistling. The DJ’s smooth voice rises over clamor, “Ladies and gentlemen, at this time we’d like to invite you to the dance floor to join Mr. & Mrs. Hanscom.”

“Oh, Bill! Let’s dance!” Audra winds her arms around Bill’s shoulder, draping her body over him, smiling sweetly at him. 

Bill groans, frowning but trailing behind Audra, who’s dragging him by the hand to the dance floor.

Stan stands up, offering his hand to Patty. “Honey?”

“Oh, yes, please!” She jumps up, grasping Stan’s hand. 

A hand lands on Richie’s inner thigh. “OH!” Richie jumps, spilling some of his drink. He finds Eddie smiling at him, the glow of the city and the bistro lights above the dance floor twinkling in his eyes. “Yes?” Richie chuckles softly, “What can I do for you, baby?”

“Dance with me,” Eddie states, letting his eyes do the real talking.

“Well, fuck, how can I say no to that?” He throws his napkin down on the table in a flourish, standing up to offer Eddie his hand. With an enormous grin, Eddie takes his hand before dashing, pulling Richie to the dance floor.

Richie grounds himself in place, fighting against Eddie’s pull. “You going to be ok there, homeschool?”

Mike, fiddling with his camera, one of his most prized possessions, looks up at Richie in confusion. “Wha? Oh! Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me, Rich. I’m gonna be the unofficial historian for this monumental event!” Raising his camera, he slings the strap around his neck, grinning widely, to make his way to the dance floor.

Eddie tugs Richie’s arm again. Richie naturally follows him.

Eddie tugs Richie into his arms, shifting Richie’s limbs as he wants them - Richie’s left hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his right held in Eddie’s palm. Looking up into Richie’s eyes, Eddie slides his left hand down Richie’s spine - earning him a gasp - to the small of Richie’s back, digging his fingers in to tug Richie close so their bodies are flush against each other. With a soft sigh, Eddie starts swaying to the music.

Trying to hold back his tears, Richie whispers, “You gonna lead the whole night, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, his forehead resting on Richie’s shoulder. “If you’re willing to follow, that is?” 

Richie’s response is immediate. “I’d follow you anywhere, Eddie.” 

For a brief second, they stop swaying. Eddie keeps his head on Richie’s shoulders, unmoving. Richie blinks and then they’re moving again.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah. Of course, baby. You know I would follow you into hell and back.” 

Leaning back, Eddie gulps deeply. Their bodies are still swaying, but slowly. Peering up at Richie with his big brown eyes, he says, “You know, I would follow you anywhere too.”

“I know-” 

Eddie cuts him off, violently shaking his head, pausing their small steps. Gripping Richie harder, his fingers dig into Richie’s hand and hip, “No, no. I mean it, Rich. I would follow you…” gulping again, his eyes dance around, flicking at the air, searching, “I would follow you in that fucking house again!”

“Eddie-”

“I would live in it if it meant being with you. I would dust away all of those fucking cobwebs if I could hear your voice everyday. I would scrub the floors, re-wallpaper the rotting walls, pull out every single one of those fucking weeds-”

“No, no,” Richie mumbles, remembering the last time Eddie attacked some weeds.

“- if it meant I could hold you everyday. If I could kiss you, love you…” He trails off, peering deeply into Richie’s eyes.

“Eddie-”

“You don’t believe me,” Eddie states flatly, frowning.

“No, I do! Of course I do.”

“You do...and you don’t.”

“I-” The words get stuck in Richie’s throat because he knows Eddie’s right. He knows what Eddie’s saying is true - he knows Eddie loves him - but his brain doesn’t, still thinking what’s happening between them is somehow a trick. A figment of his imagination.

Eddie’s frown deepens, seeing the look of self realization on Richie’s face.

“I know,” Eddie stiffens his posture, jostling Richie’s frame back into proper form to start them moving again, “that I’m not the most, uh, expressive person.” 

“That’s not true. You’re very loud and - uhh, expressive - in bed.”

Eddie bits his lip, blushing. “I _mean_ I’m not the most vocal about my _feelings_. It took me months to say ‘I love you’ for crying out loud. And you practically said it ten times a day.”

“It’s ok. You got there eventually. And you never needed to say it. I knew - I _know_ you love me.”

“I know. But you deserve to hear it. You deserve everything and so much more. I don’t tell you enough how much I love you or how important you are to me. And I certainly don’t tell you enough how devastatingly handsome you are, or how your big toothy grin makes me weak in the knees. I don’t tell you enough how I love _everything_ about you,” Eddie squeezes Richie’s hip, “and that I never, ever, want you to change.”

Still following Eddie’s lead, Richie grips Eddie tighter, his words having entered Richie’s body and permanently embedded themselves in the deep hollow of Richie’s stomach. “You don’t-,” Richie licks his lips, flustered, “you don’t have to. You don’t have to _say_ those things.”

“But I want to. And, I think you _need_ to hear them. Even after we’ve been together for two and a half years, I know it’s hard for you to believe this is real. That _we’re_ real.” 

Richie opens his mouth, but Eddie keeps going, determined to make his point.

“And that’s ok. I know you know that I love you, but I also know how much you second guess yourself. Which is _why_ I’m going to start telling you more how much I love you, how handsome and sexy you are, and how your eyes are the most brilliant blue right now. It makes me want to grab you by the neck and kiss you until someone fucking whistles at us.”

A small wet laugh escapes Richie’s lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, already winding his hand, unfastened from Richie’s, behind Richie’s neck to pull him down into a searing kiss. 

Richie moans into the kiss. He’s pretty sure the music is drowning him out, but the idea of other dancers hearing him doesn’t stop him from leaning into Eddie. Eddie pulls back after a second, but he doesn’t go far, his mouth ghosting over Richie’s flushed cheek. Eddie starts swaying again. Richie’s hands mold to Eddie hips while Eddie lazily drapes his arms over Richie’s shoulders.

Opening his brown eyes, Eddie whispers, “I love your eyes. Have I ever told you that?”

Richie shakes his head, lost in Eddie’s eyes.

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, “They’re so fucking blue. Like a deep clear blue.”

“Deep clear blue? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes it does. It’s like when you look at a clean, clear deep lake. You know it’s deep by the dark blue at the bottom, but at the top, at the surface, it’s a lighter blue. You look through the light to see the dark. It’s hypnotizing, trying to figure out where light blue ends and where the dark blue begins. Like your eyes. I get lost in your eyes.”

“Fuck, Eddie.” It comes out as a whine. Richie can’t even begin to process all of the emotions he’s feeling right now.

Eddie grins against Richie’s cheek, knowing what he's doing to Richie. “I love this suit on you too. It really - uh - _accentuates_ all of the right _areas._ ” Eddie pulls his arms back, gliding his fingers sensually over Richie’s wide shoulders. 

“Jesus fuck, Eddie,” Richie grips Eddie’s hips tighter, pulling his body back.

A laugh is knocked out of Eddie, his laugh getting soft as he leans up to whisper in Richie’s ear, “Don’t worry, Rich. _Baby._ I’ll tell you everything I love about this suit - about your _body_ \- _later tonight_.” Sliding one hand into the loose curls at the nape of Richie’s neck, Eddie lightly tugs, sending shivers down Richie’s spin. 

Richie moans, definitely louder than before.

“But,” Eddie trails, releasing Richie’s burning curls, “I need to have a dance first.”

Richie blinks, thrown off course. “Wha-?” 

Before Richie can finish, Eddie steps back, out of Richie’s white knuckled grip, to wave to the dancers next to them. “Excuse me?” He interrupts, stopping the dancers mid-step. “May I step in?”

It takes two - three - hard blinks before Richie realizes the two dancers are Bev and Ben.

“Oh,” Ben smiles, unlocking himself from Bev. “Of course.” 

Eddie peels himself away from Richie, his hand sliding down Richie’s arm, before they’re completely separated. He gazes back at Richie, seductively. “Save the last dance for me?”

“Yeah. Of course, babe.”

Eddie grins, squeezing Richie’s hand before he’s twirling away with Bev, both of their laughter disappearing underneath the music.

Ben and Richie’s gaze linger, following Ben & Bev through the crowd. A twirl of Bev’s white lace train is the last they see of them.

“So, Haystack,” Richie extends his hand out. “Dance with me?”

“Oh!” Ben jumps, turning to Richie. “Yeah, yeah. Sure - uuummm - how to do you-” He trails off, his hands flailing, flopping through the air.

“Oh my god, Ben.” Richie takes Ben’s jerking hands, placing one of Ben’s hands in the “leader” position - or the male position, although Richie doesn’t like to think of it that way. “We’re just dancing. It’s not rocket science.” 

Ben huffs a laugh, his body relaxing as Richie starts swaying side to side.

“Sooo,” Richie drawls, “how does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” Ben cocks his head.

“What do you think I mean? Being _married_!”

“OH! Well, I’ve only been married for like -” taking a beat to gaze up at the night sky, Ben starts to take the lead, pulling Richie along with him, “-for like _three hours_ .” 

“So? That’s more than I’ve ever been married. So, tell me!”

“Okay, well-,” Ben frowns in concentration, “it’s kinda overwhelming to be honest.”

“Like holy-shit-what-did-I-get-myself-into kinda overwhelming?”

“No, no,” Ben shakes his head, groaning with frustration. “Not overwhelming in a bad way. Just like did-that-really-just-happen kind of way.” His eyes are focused on their feet, as he searches for the right words. “It’s just - you know, I’ve been in love with Bev since - well, since I first laid eyes on her.” 

“Awww. You’re such a romantic, Benny-Boy.”

A faint blush is exposed under the night sky. “Well, it’s true. I’ve loved her so long that this feels so... _surreal._ I never thought it was possible that she would love me back. And now look at us! We’re married! We have a life together! We have plans for the holidays and vacations! Real couple stuff! I just - I never thought it was possible!”

“Whoa, whoa there, Haystack! Breath, man.”

“Sorry,” Ben mumbles shyly, his step faltering.

“Hey, it’s ok. I understand. I mean - I don’t _really understand_ \- but, like, I can imagine.”

“Yeah?” Ben smirks “Thinking about giving Eddie that ring?”

“Je- _sus,_ Ben! Keep your voice down,” Richie hisses, glancing side to side. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Ben chuckles, whispering. 

“God, I tell Bev and now it’s spreading like wildfire. Did you tell the others too?”

“What!? Of course not! She told me-”

“Cause you’re her _husband_ now?” 

The reverberation from Ben’s jaw, snapping shut, is so strong Richie feels it tingling down his arms. 

“Yeah, no secrets between husband and wife, right? Don’t worry about it, Haystack. I know you wouldn’t tell. Eddie or any of the others. Although, now I feel like I should tell the others. I mean, like half of the Losers already know. They would be _pissed_ if I didn’t let them in on the secret.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Bill and Mike will appreciate it. Stan will just say it’s about time.”

Richie snorts. 

Out of the crowd, a figure descends on them. “Oh, Benny,” Mrs. Hanscom interrupts, grabbing Ben’s arm. “Oh, sorry, Richie. I need to steal Benny. Ben, your aunt wants to give you and Bev your wedding gift and she’s _insisting_ she gives it to you in person.”

“It’s ok, Mrs. Hanscom. He’s a popular man tonight,” Richie says.

Grasping Ben arms, Mrs. Hanscom drags Ben through the crowd. Calling over people’s head, Ben yells, “Thanks for the dance, Rich!”

“Anytime!” Richie calls back. 

He looks around; he’s surrounded by jerking, undulating bodies dancing to the more upbeat tempo that has taken over the dance floor. Scanning the faces around him, he doesn’t see Eddie or any of the other Losers. He makes his way to the next best place - the cake table. Eating a slice of cake he spots Bill & Stan, sitting at their table. 

“Hello, gentlemen.” Richie takes a seat. “Where are the ladies?”

Both Stan and Bill point, bringing Richie’s attention to Audra and Patty, who are holding each other’s hands, swaying wildly, scream-singing to Madonna’s _Vogue_.

“Wow,” Richie deadpans, taking another bite of cake.

“It’s a good thing Patty asked Audra to dance. I _hate_ dancing.” Bill frowns, shifting in his seat. “Audra just can’t stop. Whenever we go to a wedding, she’s always the last one on the dance floor.”

Stan hums. “Patty too.” 

“I always bow out after two or three songs. Audra gets so annoyed too. Although she always finds a girlfriend to dance with her.”

Stan hums again, but says nothing, just watching the girls.

A silence descends on the men - Richie continues devouring his cake, Bill quietly takes a sip of his beer, and Stan sits, people watching, silently categorizing people like birds.

“I bought a ring,” Richie blurts, uncomfortable with the silence.

“What!?” Bill spews, spraying some beer into the night air.

“I bought a _ring,”_ Richie reiterates.

“A ring?” Bill shakes his head, confused.

Stan simply stares.

“Yes, _Bill._ A _ring._ ”

“Uuuuuhhh,” Bill’s eyes narrow, musing over Richie’s words.

“Christ on a _cracker_ , Bill.” Richie huffs, annoyed, throwing down his fork. “Why do you think I would buy a ring!?”

Bill’s eyes narrow down to slits, chewing his lip before his eyes fly open, his mouth dropping. “Oh! OOoooooohhhh.”

“Congrats, Rich,” Stan chimes in, smiling at Richie.

“Thanks, Stanny, but don’t congratulate me just yet.” Richie goes back eating. “I just got a ring. I haven’t figured out the whole... _asking_ part yet.” Richie stabs his cake. 

Stan shrugs, turning his gaze back to the ladies. “That’s ok. Just the fact that you decided to get a ring is enough for now.”

“Yeah,” Bill adds, finally over his initial shock, “I carried around Audra’s ring for about 8 months before I popped the question. I finally did it one night when we were just hanging out at home, finally free of any social engagements. And look at us now, we’ve been married-” Bill pauses, mentally crunching dates, “for thirteen years!”

“Thirteen years,” Richie muses, looking back at Audra. He wonder’s where he and Eddie will be in thirteen years. 

“Patty and I will have been married for fifteen years next March,” Stan beams.

“Holy shit! So young, Stan!” Bill laughs. 

Stan shrugs, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “We knew we wanted to be together. Why wait?” 

“Awww, that’s so romantic, Stanny!” Richie coos, surprised at Stan’s openness about his relationship.

“What? You don’t think I can be romantic?” Stan mocks, feigning being offended. 

“No, no. I’m sure you’re a deep romantic at heart. Just never had the privilege to see it.” 

“Well, that’s cause you’re not my wife.”

Richie laughs, half spewing frosting.

“Ah-ha!” Mike yells, jumping out of the tangled crowd. “Look at this sad group of Losers,” Mike laughs, playing with his camera.

“Hey, fuck you, Mike. I’m having a great time with this cake.” Richie jesters to his plate, suddenly realizing it’s empty.

“Ok,” Mike raises his camera, “Smile!”

The three men shuffle their chairs, leaning closer together.

“Cheeeese!” Richie yells through his teeth.

A few fast, bright lights flash, momentarily blinding the men. 

“Oh, good, good,” Mike whispers to himself, flicking through the photos. Satisfied with his work, he plunks down in a chair. “So, have each of you been dumped?”

Without a word, Stan points into the crowd.

“Ah,” Mike grins, “That explains that. Where’s Eddie?”

Richie shrugs. “The last time I saw him he was dancing with Bev. Maybe he dumped me and went to go find a cute sailor?”

Mike chokes out a small laugh. “Yeah right.”

Another silence descends. Confused at the sudden silence, Richie turns to Stan and Bill, who are staring expectantly at him. Stan raises his eyebrows, nodding his head in Mike’s direction.

Taking his cue, Richie turns, blurting out, “I bought a ring. For Eddie. No idea how I’m going to fucking ask him yet, but - yeah. There’s that.”

Mike stares, taken back at the sudden news. Blinking quickly, a smile spreads across his face. “Wow! Well, congrats, Rich! That’s great news!”

“Gah! Why does everyone - Don’t congratulate me! I mean - not yet! You guys are going to fucking jinks it!”

“Rich - and I fucking mean this - there is _no universe_ in which Eddie would say no to you,” Bill says, patting Rich on the back. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

“Yeah, that’s easier said than done.” Richie mumbles, wishing he had another piece of cake.

“Jesus!” someone yells, making everyone jump. “Was there a memo about meeting back up at the table?” Eddie laughs, walking around the table to take a seat next to Rich.

Flushed bright, Richie stiffens, wondering if Eddie heard any part of their conversation.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hi,” Eddie grins, leaning over to plant a kiss to Richie’s cheek. “Did you leave any cake for me?” He jokes, looking down at Richie’s empty plate.

“Sorry, sweetheart. All that sweet frosting is coating these sweet lips,” Richie grins, leaning into Eddie, his anxiety already fading away.

“Annnd, on that note,” Stan yells, jumping up from his chair. “I’m going to go ask Patty if she wants to dance before we get into port.”

“I’m going to ask Audra too,” Bill says, quickly jumping up to follow in Stan’s wake.

“Oh, this is going to be a great opportunity for pictures,” Mike jumps up, following the two men.

Richie watches them go, enjoying the fact he and Eddie can clear a table with their sweet talk. Fingers grasps Richie’s chin, turning his focus back to Eddie. 

“You were telling me about those sweet lips?” Eddie’s gaze falls, locking onto Richie’s lips.

“Yeah. Wanna taste, baby?”

Eddie laughs, smashing their lips together, winding his hand into Richie’s hair. Richie moans into the kiss, shutting his eyes against the bright lights of the dance floor to focus all of his attention on Eddie. If he could taste, smell, feel, and hear Eddie all of the time, it would be a life well worth living in Richie’s opinion.

Pulling back, Eddie whispers against Richie’s open lips. “Fuck, Rich. It’s a good thing we’re going back to port. I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel.”

“Yeah?” Richie’s pulse picks up.

“Yeah,” Eddie curves around Richie, pressing his nose against Richie’s cheek. “Going to show you how much I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes:  
> You know I just had to get a little bit of Richie and Bev in here. I think they have the sweetest friendship. More so than the other Losers I think Bev and Richie are blamed for things they aren’t their fault. Richie gets into trouble a lot cause he can’t keep himself still or his mouth shut. People can easily blame him for things cause everyone will believe he did it. And Bev, she comes from a poor household so she’s had to become tough. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, so she talks back. Again, when she gets blamed for things, people assume she did it. Scapegoats.
> 
> Research:  
> The card game Stan & MIke are playing is Gin Rummy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uy063oI9Gkk
> 
> Hornblower Cruises & Events. This is where I got the idea for Ben & Bev’s wedding. https://www.hornblower.com/chicago/our-fleet/spirit-of-chicago/
> 
> New Kids on the Block’s I’ll Be Loving You (Forever): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZT_7UjCVELg
> 
> Madonna’s Vogue: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuJQSAiODqI


	5. Chapter Five

The Best Part of Me (Is You)

Chapter Five

Richie’s POV

Richie’s breath is stolen from him; not from his back slamming against the door but from Eddie’s soft lips, attached at Richie’s neck, sucking and nibbling.

“Fuuu-” The moan which pours from Richie’s lips is broken off by a sharp bite to his jugular. 

“Fuck,” Eddie finishes for Richie, “That boat took fucking forever to dock.” Both his hands are cradling Richie’s jaw, his thumb pressing right into Richie’s pulse point which is beating like a freight train. He moves his hands to give himself the perfect access to Richie’s neck. “I almost dragged you to the bathroom. I was getting so desperate.”

A puff of air, one hiding in Richie’s lungs, rushes past his lips. It’s half laugh, half moan. “Can you-” His breath hitches; another bite. “Hmm. Can you imagine? Them catching us in the bathroom? How _scandalous_!” 

He feels a smile against his neck.

“No one would blame me. You look fucking _amazing_ in your suit.”

“You can thank Bev for that.”

Eddie removes his lips from Richie’s neck, tilting up to whisper softly, hotly, in Richie’s ear, “I already did.”

Richie moans, biting his bottom lip. 

Stepping back, Eddie chuckles, grabbing Richie’s hands to pull him into the room. Naturally, Richie follows, keeping his eyes only on Eddie.

They stop right at the edge of the bed. Releasing Richie’s hands - which, now untethered, drift automatically to Eddie’s hips - Eddie places his hands on Richie’s chest, opening up Richie’s blazer as his hands move upward. His hands move slowly, mapping the plains underneath Richie’s shirt until he digs underneath the blazer, pushing it off Richie’s shoulders. 

The fabric drops to the floor in a hush, too soft to be heard over the roaring in Richie’s ears. 

“Eddie-,” Richie whispers, not meaning to say more. All he wants is to be wrapped around Eddie, completely entangled with him. All of Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie

“Mind if I get you out of this?” Eddie tugs at Richie’s tie, undoing the knot.

Richie nods enthusiastically, earning a wide grin from Eddie.

Without a word, Eddie continues to slowly, methodically unbutton, tug, and slide off each article of clothing until they’re pooled at Richie’s feet. Richie should be cold, with the air conditioning blowing against his skin which is bare except for his boxers, but he’s on fire. He’s burning from the inside.

Holding Richie by the waist Eddie twists them around until the back of Richie’s knees hit the edge of the bed. 

“Lay down for me, baby,” Eddie whispers reverently, giving Richie a slight push.

Plopping down on the bed, Richie scoots back, further and further into the middle of the bed with Eddie crawling after him, his eyes wide and bright with desire. Falling down on his back, Richie reaches his arms wide, wrapping them around Eddie’s shoulders, bringing him down to a searing kiss.

“Love,” Richie pulls back only for Eddie to follow his lips, stealing another kiss, “You’re too dressed for this, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s deep blue suit is cool against Richie’s heated skin, but it’s not what Richie wants to feel pressed against him.

With his eyes trained on Richie, Eddie pulls back. Standing at the end of the bed he slowly, almost painfully slow, slinks off his clothes. When he’s in nothing but his boxers, Eddie kneels on the bed, placing his warm hands on Richie’s thighs, running them up, up, up to cup Richie’s bony knees, spreading them wide, allowing Eddie to scoot into the gaping heat.

Wrapping his legs around Eddie, Richie’s breath hitches when he feels a hard line pressing against his clothed ass.

“Je- _sus_ ,” Richie moans, wrapping his arms around Eddie, dragging his fingers low to dig into Eddie’s ass, pressing their bodies together. “Fuck, baby.”

Eddie hums in agreement, leaning down to kiss Richie softly. Head spinning, dizzy with the heavy press of Eddie laying on top of him, Richie digs his fingers in deeper, moving them up and down the curl of Eddie’s ass.

“Rich,” Eddie sighs against Richie’s open mouth, “Can I-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nods, just wanting to feel Eddie’s mouth again.

Eddie chuckles, “I didn’t even ask you anything yet.”

“Hmm, doesn’t matter. You can do anything to me.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah, of course. You know that, baby.” 

Eddie hums, leaning back, dragging his hands down Richie’s chest, racking his eyes over Richie’s body. “You know, I had actually something planned for tonight?”

“Oh yeah?” Richie cocks his head to the side, still massaging Eddie’s ass.

“Yeah,” licking his lips, Eddie drags the pad of his finger across Richie’s nipple.

“FUUUCCK,” Richie’s breath hitches, leaning into the touch.

“I brought some _things_ too.” Eddie drags his finger again, pulling another hiss from Richie.

“Ooooohhh?” Richie half laughs, half moans.

“Yeah, but, I actually want to do something _different_ tonight.”

“Oh? Tell me, sweetcheeks.”

Grinning widely, Eddie flicks Richie’s nipple again before dragging his hands up to cup Richie’s face. Locking eyes, he whispers, “Rich?” He kisses Richie deeply, tilting his head back to get the perfect angle. “Rich? Can I-,” Eddie pauses, his eyes flicking over Richie’s face.

“What? What, baby?”

“Can I -,” Eddie leans down to whisper in Richie’s ear, “Can I make love to you?”

Richie sucks in a harsh breath; his stomach swooping up in a sharp arch before it falls, tumbling down and out of his body. “ _E_ _ddie.”_ It’s breathless but filled with want.

He feels Eddie grin against his ear. “Can I, Rich?” Eddie presses a soft kiss to Richie’s temple. “I want to be good to you.” Another kiss, lower, on Richie’s cheek. “I want to show you how much I love you. How much I _love_ your body.”

All Richie manages is a long, drawn out moan. “OOoooohhhhh.”

Taking that as a ‘yes’ Eddie moves to hover over Richie, his toned arms bracketing Richie’s head, so they’re face to face. 

“Like how much I _love_ your hair.” Leaning on one arm, Eddie tangles a hand into Richie’s curls, twirling a finger around one errant curl, tugging it slightly. 

“My - my hair?” Richie laughs, surprised.

“Yeah. It’s so soft and I’ve always loved how wild - curly - it is. I always wanted to wind my hands through it when we were younger.”

“Hmm, I wish you did. It was fuller then. A lot of less grey.”

“It’s not _that bad_ ” Eddie tisks, “Besides, I like the salt and pepper look.”

“What if I was bald?”

“Yes,” Eddie says with a slight eye roll, “I’d love you even if you were bald. Now,” Eddie moves down, pressing a kiss to the bridge of Richie’s nose and then side to side, cheek to cheek. “Wanna know what else I love?”

“Wha - what?”

“Well, I think it’s obvious how much I love your lips?” To make his point he captures Richie’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss. “I love kissing you.” Another deep kiss. “It’s addictive, really.” Another kiss. “The first time we kissed I almost blacked out, it was so amazing. Way better than anything I could have imagined. And they way they feel against my body? Fucking mind blowing.”

“Ooh? Well - huh - I could use them to blow you.” Richie cringes at his own bad joke.

Eddie laughs anyway. “Not tonight, handsome. Tonight’s about you.”

“Oh. Well. Uhhhh-” Richie shifts deeper into the bed, his cheeks burning hot.

Smiling knowingly, Eddie leans back, his hands splayed wide on Richie’s chest. Arching his finger high, his spider walks them up Richie’s chest, idly sauntering them along the line of Richie’s collarbone to the curve of his shoulder. 

“And _these_ ,” Eddie breaks his spider-walks to firmly grip Richie’s shoulders. “So _broad._ You know it was the first I noticed about you when I saw you in the restaurant?”

“Not my gut?”

Ignoring him, Eddie continues, “That and the fact you got super fucking tall. You went from a gangly little kid to a _fucking_ giant. I mean, what the fuck, Richie?”

Richie shrugs, causing Eddie to tighten his grip. 

“I mean, not like I’m complaining. I love it. I love how tall you are. How wide and broad your shoulders are. How you can completely encompass me.” He presses quick, light kisses from one shoulder to the next. Kissing the curve of Richie’s shoulder, Eddie continues down the slope, pressing his lips to Richie’s bicep. “I love your arms too.” 

Richie snorts, but it breaks, transforming into a moan. “What? Those - those slabs of fat?”

“Stop, they’re toned,” Eddie says, his face still pressed against Richie’s arm. Sticking his tongue out, he runs it from the sensitive patch of skin of Richie’s ‘elbow pit’ - as Richie likes to call it - all the way up to his shoulder. He returns back to the meat of Richie’s bicep, giving it a few love bites. 

“Edd- _ie_!” Richie whines, squirming. 

Eddie presses another kiss to Richie’s bicep. “Hmm. Now what I really love is your _chest_.” 

This time Richie gets out a full snort. “No way. You don’t-,” he breathes out a stuttering whoosh of air, “you don’t have to pretend.” 

“I’m not pretending.” Eddie cards his fingers through the dark curly hair on Richie’s chest, moving to the side to squeeze Richie’s pecs, getting two full handfuls. 

“Eds - God, I have _tits!”_

“Rich-” Eddie starts, his tone light, but pressing.

“Eds. Really. You don’t-” Richie squirms, shifting under Eddie’s hands. He’s afraid to look at Eddie, afraid to see the repulsiveness he’s feeling about his own body reflected in Eddie’s eyes. “It’s ok. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Rich-”

“I know I’m not the sexist person-”

“Rich. Baby-”

“I mean, I can even put my shirt back on, if you-”

Without another word Eddie shoves his face directly into Richie’s pecs, pressing, squashing them against this face. 

“Ahhh!” Richie jerks, but Eddie’s face keeps him pinned down. “Fuuck, Eddie!”

Eddie hums, nuzzling further into Richie’s pecs. 

“Oh my god, Eddie!” Richie laughs.

Eddie hums deeper, peering up at Richie from between his hairy pecs. “Hmm, I love them.” He turns his head, side to side, pressing a kiss to each of Richie’s pecs.

“Eddie!” Richie laughs, squirming underneath Eddie.

“I _looove_ them.” Eddie peers up again, smiling. With his eyes locked on Richie, he kisses the curve of Richie’s pec. Opening his mouth wide, he clamps it to Richie’s pec, sucking the skin into his mouth. 

“FUCK! EDDIE!” 

Eddie sucks up the curve of Richie’s pec, sucking harder and harder until his mouth captures Richie’s pert nipple. 

“OOOHHH!” Richie’s back arches high, pressing his chest into Eddie’s mouth. 

Sucking hard, his mouth closes around Richie’s nipple, sucking as he leans up, tugging Richie’s nipple along until it pops out of his mouth. 

“I love them,” Eddie sighs, moving to Richie’s other nipple. After giving it the same attention, Eddie leans up, smiling wide, “I love your _tits._ ”

Richie hiccups, a little misty around the eyes. “Eds-”

“I _love them_ ,” Eddie says adamantly. To make his point Eddie kisses from pec to pec, going up one mountain, down to the middle valley and then up again. His eyes never leave Richie’s the whole time.

Something in Richie crumbles, seeing the fierce gaze in Eddie’s eyes and feeling the tenderness of Eddie’s lips. “Eddie-,” Richie half sobs.

“I love _all of you,_ Richie.” Eyes still locked, Eddie moves lower, kissing down Richie’s sternum - down, down to lick deeply into Richie’s belly button. 

“Ahhh! Holy fuc-” Richie jumps at the cool intrusion.

Eddie cuts him off, licking deeper.

“Eddie! Stop!” Richie laughs, squirming, half pushing at Eddie’s shoulders.

Shoving his face in Richie’s plush stomach, he hums deeply, sending a tingling sensation down Richie’s spine. 

“Oh my god, Eddie! You’re killing me, love!”

Eddie blows raspberries, making Richie scream with laughter. His laughter rolls his body left and right, legs kicking out wildly, but Eddie takes hold of Richie’s body, gripping him by his sides to keep him in place. Richie jumps out of instinct, his hands slapping down, grasping Eddie’s hands.

“Eddie-,” his voice breaks, feeling his walls coming back up again.

“Mhm?” Eddie cocks his head, peering up.

“My love handles...my spare tire…” His voice fades, looking at Eddie, waiting for Eddie to pull away. 

Eddie smiles, because of course he knows what Richie’s thinking. He knows the kind of thoughts that are running rampant through Richie’s head. 

“I love them too,” Eddie whispers lovingly, kissing Richie’s belly softly.

A long, harsh intake of breath rattles Richie’s chest. His eyes pool with tears, his chest burning.

A small, puffed “ooooh” escapes his lips. 

Eddie, understanding Richie’s silence and tears, presses kiss after kiss over Richie’s stomach. “So handsome. So sexy,” he murmurs around Richie’s belly button. “So funny. So kind and sweet. My loving man. I love everything about you. Sometimes I don’t know what’s the best thing about you? The best part of you? I mean, there’s just so much to love about you.” He kisses round the top of Richie’s belly, moving down the side, lower and lower to black band of Richie’s boxers. 

When he peers back up, Eddie’s mouth is hovering above Richie’s boxers. Smiling seductively, Eddie snaps the band pulling a yelp from Richie. Placing a kiss below Richie’s belly button, Eddie whispers, “Can I?”

Richie nods, getting curls in his eyes.

Grinning, Eddie rolls down Richie’s boxers. The cold air hitting his heated body causes Richie to moan. 

A moan echoes out of Eddie whose eyes are now taking in _all_ of Richie. 

“I love you like this too.” Eddie runs his hands down, over Richie’s hips and down Richie’s thighs, gripping them tightly to pull his legs open, exposing more of him.

The cool air rushes in, curving, hugging to the newly exposed skin. Richie feels like he’s on display.

“Fuck,” Richie spits, leaning back on his elbows, neck arching back.

Humming in agreement, Eddie leans over Richie, seemingly aiming for the weeping tip, but at the last second he shifts to the side, placing a kiss to the inside of Richie’s legs. 

The sensation catches Richie off guard. “Ooohh.”

Eddie licks up the sensitive patch of skin, starting low, at the curve of Richie’s butt, licking all the way up to his hip bone.

“Oooh! Eddie!” Richie jumps, the tickling sensation jumping through his limbs. “You’re teasing me!”

“You know I can’t help it.”

Richie pouts, “I thought you were going to be sweet to me?”

“Oh, I’m going to be _so sweet_ to you, baby. Now, can you turn over for me?” Eddie grabs Richie’s hips.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You.” Richie places a hand on Eddie’s thigh. 

The frown on Eddie’s face bouncing into a grin. He shuffles off the bed, pulling off his boxers to kick them off into a dark corner. 

Catching a quick glance of Eddie, Richie flips onto his back, groaning as his cock presses into the mattress. Once he’s on his stomach he feels Eddie climb on top of him, straddling his thighs. Fingers rack down Richie’s back, squeezing his sides all the way down until hands fully cup his butt.

Eddie’s voice comes from above him, “Have I told you how much I love your ass?”

“Nonsense,” Richie chuckles, “My ass can’t even compare to yours. It’s a thing of beauty. A masterpiece.”

The laughter racking Eddie’s body shakes Richie.

“I guess we can agree to disagree,” Eddie kneads Richie’s ass, rolling the skin through his fingers. Leaning down, he places a soft kiss to the small of Richie’s back.

His mouth moves lower, down one cheek, kissing it all over. 

“Such a cute butt,” Eddie whispers between kisses. 

“Eddie,” Richie chuckles again, “You’re tickling me! That’s - that’s - Ahhh!!”

The feeling of Eddie’s face shoved between his cheeks, his fingers gripping each cheek, pushing them against his face, causes Richie to jump, momentarily taken back.

“Ooohh, fuck, Eddie,” he whines, gripping the sheets tighter.

Eddie hums, right into Richie’s core.

“Oh, Jesus! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Richie’s mumbling breaks off into a solid, drawn out moan when Eddie sticks his tongue out, licking softly over Richie’s center.

“Oooooohh, Eddddiiiieee.” 

Eddie licks a few more times, licking a little deeper.

“Nnnggggg.” Richie ruts into the bed, trying to find a rhythm to Eddie’s lazy licks. Once he feels the beginning of a fire building, Eddie pulls away, allowing the cold to rush in, extinguishing the fire. “Eddie!”

“Sorry, baby.” Eddie places an apologetic kiss to Richie’s back. “But I know how long you usually last when I do that and I have other plans for you.”

Richie huffs into the sheets. “You _are_ teasing me.”

“No more teasing then.” Another kiss. “Turn over and scoot up the bed for me.”

As Richie complies, Eddie shuffles off the bed, grabbing a bottle of lube out of his toiletry bag. Squeezing some onto his fingers, he shuffles back on his knees to Richie.

Tapping Richie’s calf, Eddie says, “Legs open.”

Eddie shuffles forward to rest between Richie’s open legs. Only then does Eddie press a chaste kiss to the tip of Richie’s cock. Eddie’s mouth goes wide, sucking the tip into his mouth. 

Richie’s breath hitches, getting stuck in the middle of his throat. It only becomes unlodged when one of Eddie’s lube soaked fingers rubs up against Richie’s center.

“Mmnnnnggg.” Feeling the fire come ablaze again, Richie pushes against Eddie’s fingers. “More Eddie.”

Popping off momentarily, Eddie mumbles, “Soon, baby, soon.” He goes down again.

“Mmnngg. You said no more teasing.”

Eddie pops off again. “I’m not teasing you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He goes down again, sucking all the way as he adds another finger.

“Ooohh. Yeah, yeah. Just - just like that.”

With his mouth moving up and down, Eddie moves his fingers wide, scissoring them open and closed, timing them with this mouth.

“Yeah, just like that, baby. Soo gooood.” Richie ruts down, looking, asking for more.

Eddie licks up Richie’s shaft, staring up at him with deep dark eyes. “More?”

“Ooh, yes. More, please, mooore,” Richie begs.

“Ok, I got you, baby.” Eddie presses a kiss to the tip, adding a third finger. 

Richie hisses at the stretch, the slight burn of it. “Oh, you feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

Rolling Richie’s balls in his hands, Eddie licks up Richie’s shaft. “Yeah? You like this?” Eddie twists his fingers, hitting the sweet spot.

“Oh! Oh! Yeah, yeah! Hmm, love it so much.” Richie ruts harder, causing a wet squelching sound to echo through the room.

Eddie kisses at Richie’s hip bone, moving his lips down slowly along the inside of Richie’s thigh. “Richie? Baby?” Eddie whispers against the inside of Richie’s thigh.

“Ye - Yeah?” It comes out as a hiccup.

“Do you want more?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Oh, shit. God, I always want more. Always want you.”

Richie’s huffing fills the room as Eddie slicks himself up. Richie keeps his eyes locked on Eddie, reaching out a hand to rub it up and down Eddie’s thigh, not wanting to be separated from him for a moment. 

“Ready?” Eddie asks under hooded eyes.

Richie nods frantically.

Eddie scoots forward, pushing himself between Richie’s open legs. Grabbing Richie’s thighs, he pulls Richie’s butt closer to him. Richie lets himself be tugged and pulled, manhandled really, by Eddie, feeling the fire in his belly growing hotter and hotter, practically ready to burst when their skin comes in contact with each other.

“Ooh. Eddie.” It’s barely a whisper but Eddie hears him, his eyes swinging up to Richie’s already blissed out face.

With love in his eyes Eddie leans down over Richie, their chests pressing up against each other to kiss him sweetly. Richie’s hands come up, cupping the back of Eddie’s head. Their moans fill the room.

“Good?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, babe. I’m ready for you.”

Hovering on one hand, Eddie adjusts himself, slowly pushing in. Richie’s breath hitches as he feels Eddie pushing inside of him. 

“Ahhhhh. Mmmgggnn.” Richie wraps his legs around Eddie’s arched back, his arms circling Eddie’s shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. Oooh. More, more, baby.” Fingers scratch down Eddie’s back. “Baby. Baby. More, more, please!”

“Shhhhh,” Eddie sighs into Richie’s ear, hooking his head over Richie’s shoulder. “We’ll get there, baby.” Kissing Richie’s neck, Eddie pushes in a little bit more.

“OOoooooohhhh.” Richie melts into the bed, pulling Eddie tight to him, enjoying the stretch and warmth he’s providing.

Once Eddie’s in all the way, he falls, wrapping his arms under Richie, gripping his shoulders. He stays still, both of them enjoying the feel of each other. A soft sniffling fills the room.

“Rich?” Eddie whispers, trying to pull back, but he’s stopped by Richie’s strong arms. “Rich? Are you okay, baby?”

Richie nods, tears spilling down his cheeks and onto Eddie’s. 

“Rich?”

“Its - its ok. I’m - I’m ok. I’m just - uh-” 

“Being sentimental?”

Richie huffs out a laugh, pulling Eddie tighter to him. “Yeah, I’m - I’m being sentimental.”

Without another word Eddie places his lips against Richie’s neck, sucking as his hips beginning to slowly rock forward. 

“OH! Eddie!”

Eddie rocks slowly, but deeply, hitting Richie at his core every time. 

The feeling inside Richie grows, blossoming in his stomach, spreading through his veins, making his body glow from the inside.

He rocks in time with Eddie’s shallow thrusts. “Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.”

“Ohh,” Eddie huffs into Richie’s ear, “Rich. Baby.”

The way Eddie says his name. The way he calls him baby hits Richie hard. Harder than usual. He’s not exactly sure why - Eddie’s called him baby a thousand times by now - but, this time it feels different. Maybe it’s because Richie’s mind is still seeing Eddie in his groomsmen suit; still seeing twinkling lights reflected in Eddie’s brown eyes; still hearing the vows - exchanged between Bev & Ben - ringing in his ears. 

It’s then the thought enters Richie’s muddled brain. He imagines Eddie - his best friend, his boyfriend, the love of his life - as his husband. 

“Oooooh, FUCK!” Richie half-screams, arching his back, bucking wildly against Eddie, the thought bouncing round in his mind.

Eddie hisses, rocking a little harder. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Richie mumbles, trying to control his brain.

**_‘Don’t think of Eddie as your husband. Don’t think of Eddie as your husband.’_ **

“EDDIE! EDDIE! BABY!” 

“Oh, fuck, Richie.” Eddie rocks harder, the sound of their skin slapping against each other ringing in their ears. 

“Oh, fuck, Eddie.” Richie tries to pull Eddie closer, tighter, against him but there’s already no space between them. “I - I love you so much, Eddie! Oh, I love you so fucking much!” 

“Fuck, Richie. I - I love you too. Oooh, love you so fucking much.” 

“Eddie! Eddie! Can I - Can I-” Eddie bucks into him, cutting him off. 

“Wha-” Eddie drags in a long breath, “What, baby?”

“Can I - can I ride you?”

“Oooh. Yeah, yeah. Fuck, of course, you can-” Eddie bucks wildly a few more times before slowly down to a halt. “Fuck. Ok, ok. Let me - let me just-”

Wrapping his arms around Richie’s shoulders, he rolls them over, pulling Richie on top of him. As he pushes up, Richie regrets this immediately. His big thighs, straddling Eddie, are bulging, practically into puddles. His flabby stomach is falling in rolls, oozing over itself. He feels heavy on top of Eddie, as if gravity is working double time on him.

**_‘You’re going to crush him.’_ **

“Umm, you know, we don’t-”

Grabbing Richie’s hips, Eddie’s finger digs into the skin. “Hold on. Just let me-” Eddie pulls himself up so he’s sitting, knees bent, so they’re face to face. “There.” Eddie pushes back a stray curl out of Richie’s eyes. “That’s much better.” Eddie runs his hands down Richie’s back, tickling along his spine, to cup his butt. “You feel soo good, baby.” He leans forward to capture Richie’s lips. 

The softness of Eddie’s words and lips melts all of his worries and anxieties. Cupping Eddie’s face in his hands, he rocks down. 

“Oooohhh.” They both moan into each other’s mouth.

“Riiichhiiee.” 

“Ooh, fuck, Eddie.” 

This isn’t the first time Richie’s been on top, riding Eddie, but it’s not something they usually do. Their favorite positions - Richie on top of Eddie, diving him into the bed, or Eddie riding Richie, driving them both wild, but this, this is different. He can feel Eddie deep inside of him,and in this position he gets to control the tempo and the angle. It takes a few minutes to find the right tempo, somewhere in between a furious pounding and the slow rhythm of love making. It’s actually a little bit of both, an upbeat tempo with love and passion filling in every rock and thrust.

“Ah! Ah! Richie!” Eddie’s head rocks back, held up by Richie’s hands. His mouth hangs open, gulping in air.

“Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.” Each whisper of his name is punctuated with a kiss to Eddie’s exposed neck. “Love you, baby.” 

“Ahh! Richie! I’m - I’m-”

Richie nods. “Yeah, yeah. Me too, sweetheart.”

“Oooh, Riicchhiie. I’m gonna - can - can I?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, baby. Go ahead. Go ahead, love.” Richie rocks harder, from the thought of Eddie coming inside of him.

“Ahh! Ah! Rich-”

“Oh! Oooh! Eddie!”

Their moans and breath mingle with each other, both of their breaths getting shorter and shorter as their rocking gets more irregular and jumbled. 

“Rich. Rich. I’m gonna - I’m gonna-” Eddie’s mouth comes unhinged, opening wide in a breathless gasp as his body tenses, shaking slightly. A broken moan escapes his lips. 

At the sight and sound of Eddie - his eyes rolled back in pleasure with his needy, desperate moans - makes Richie’s blood boil. The heat in his belly expands, more and more until it’s all too much. Biting his lower lip, Richie lets out a deep moan, painting Eddie’s stomach and chest white. 

Richie falls forward, pressing his foreheads to Eddie’s as both of them catch their breath. 

A quiet moment passes, the only sound filling the room their huffed breathing. 

“Oh, Richie,” Eddie twists his head, catching Richie’s eye. “That felt so good, baby. You’re incredible at that.”

“Guess I learned a few things from you.” 

“Well, I actually think I could take a few pointers from you.”

“Nonsense. Your technique is flawless, babe. That roll of the hips you do always make me breathless.”

“Well, maybe, I can do that for you tomorrow morning?” 

“Ohh, fuck yeah, baby.” Richie hugs Eddie close, running his hands up and down Eddie’s slick back. 

“Rich?” Eddie whispers into Richie’s neck.

“Yeah?”

“Do you believe me now?”

“Believe you about what?”

“About how much I love your body?”

“Oh,” Richie breathes out effortlessly, “Yeah, yeah. I - I do. Thanks, baby.” And, surprisingly, he really does.

Pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, Richie rolls onto his back taking Eddie along with him. 

Eddie pulls back, pushing strands of sweaty curls out of Richie’s face. “Wanna get cleaned up, baby?” 

“Hmm, in a second. I wanna cuddle a little bit longer.”

Eddie nods, smiling. “Ok.” He rests his head on Richie’s chest, curling up against Richie.

Curling an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, Richie runs a hand up and down Eddie’s back. A few tranquil minutes pass. 

“You know,” Richie says, breaking the silence, “you were wrong earlier.”

Eddie peers up at him. “Wrong about what?”

“When you said ‘you don’t know which part of me is the best.’ I can tell you that. That’s easy.”

Eddie chuckles, “Oh yeah? What?”

“You, of course. The best part of me is you.”

Eddie’s smile is stunning. He swoops up, pushing Richie back into the bed, capturing his lips in a heated kiss.

  
  


/

  
  


The California sun is low in the sky, barely breaking over the horizon. Still, Richie - bare from the waist up - is baking from standing in the morning sun for half an hour, scooping leaves from the pool. Well, really attempting to scoop leaves out of the pool. The long pole is awkward to handle, so long it’s extended weight makes it difficult to maneuver. Attempting to scoop up mussy leaves, he ends up just pushing them around the pool. After about half an hour of walking to different sides of the pool, trying to get a better angle, Richie only has a small puddle of leaves on the deck and the beginning of a sunburn to show for all his work. His arms are even beginning to ache from holding up the long pole for so long. 

With a frustrated groan Richie throws the pole into the lawn. Huffing, he rests his hands on his hips, frowning at the pool, watching the leaves swirl around, seemingly enjoying their carefree float.

He debates going back to bed, but decides against it when he remembers Eddie’s out running. No point in getting into a bed if Eddie’s not in it.

An idea strikes him. An idea that will guarantee absolute victory. Richie pulls off his ratty basketball shots and boxers, throwing them to the side, leaving him glowing, in all his glory, in the morning light. With a short run, he cannonballs into the pool. The cool water washes over his body instantly cooling his burning skin while at the same time smacking his glasses off his face, leaving him half blind. 

Popping his head out of the pool, whipping his head side to side, he curses to himself. He can’t remember how many times he’s jumped into a pool, or the quarry, with his glasses on, subsequently losing them. When he was younger, one of the Losers would always locate them, the murky quarry water too dark for his half-blind eyes to see. Of course, he always liked it when Eddie helped him. When Eddie would pop back up with Richie’s glasses in hand, Richie would pretend to miss, his hands accidentally smacking Eddie in the face instead of grabbing his glasses. Even now, in their own clear pool, Richie will still pull this same stunt, earning a light smack and then a kiss from Eddie.

He glances around, searching the bottom of the pool. All he can see are blurry dark circles, most likely lumps of wet leaves, but he doesn’t know which ones are his glasses. Shrugging Richie starts swimming around the pool, hand scooping leaves out. He doesn’t need 20/20 vision to do this. 

It’s about half an hour later when Eddie returns, sweaty in his tank top and red shorts from his run. Richie has managed to clear the surface of the pool and is now tackling the dark circles at the bottom of the pool. Although he still hasn’t managed to find his glasses.

From the pool Richie can see Eddie, a blurry figure, puttering around the kitchen. Seemingly catching sight of Richie he slides the side door open to the backyard to make his way toward Richie. Richie’s heart picks up its pace, something that happens anytime Eddie comes towards him.

Standing at the edge of the pool, Eddie crouches down. “Hey. Whatcha doing, Rich?”

Swimming to the side of the pool, Richie rests his arms over the edge of the pool, spilling water over the concrete and Eddie’s bare feet. He shrugs, “Just cleaning up.” 

Eddie hums, his eyes running over the clear water. His eyes lock onto Richie’s again. “I like your swimsuit,” he grins.

“Thanks. My momma gave it to me.” Richie bats his eyelashes.

Laughing, Eddie runs his fingers through Richie’s wet hair. “Oh my gosh, Rich, _where are your glasses_?”

“Huh - I’m assuming somewhere down there.” He points toward the bottom of the pool.

“Oh my gosh, Rich.”

“I’ll find them eventually.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Hey, that my phone?” Richie motions toward Eddie’s hand which is holding Richie’s phone.

“Oh, yeah. Liam was calling. He called multiple times so I thought it must be important.”

“Oh, thanks, babe. Let me - huh - let me give him a call.” He swims to the side, walking out of the pool, the water dripping off of him and onto the concrete. Grabbing a towel, he dries himself off, grabbing the phone from Eddie. 

Plopping down on a lounge chair, Richie dials Liam. With the phone ringing in his ear, he watches Eddie pull his sweaty tank top over his head and kick off his shorts. He cannonballs into the pool just as Liam picks up.

“Richie!”

“Hey, Liam. What’s up?”

Richie watches Eddie pop back up, whipping his wet hair out of his eyes. 

“I got it, Rich,” Liam says.

Richie catches Eddie’s eyes who is swimming butt up in the pool. 

“Got what?”

“The _ring_! I got the ring, Rich!”

“Wha - what?” Taken back, Richie’s eyes swing away from Eddie.

“It just arrived! I mean, it looks amazing, Rich! He’s going to love it!”

“Oh my god-” 

“Want to pick it up? I’ll leave it here for you.”

Richie’s mind is whirling. It seems like months since he picked out Eddie’s ring; in reality it’s only been three weeks. 

Richie’s phone buzzes, vibrating against his ear. Looking at his screen he sees a text from Bill.

**Bill**

****

It’s the Losers group chat so Bev immediately responds.

**Bev**

**Stan**

**Mike**

Richie responds quickly, fingers typing fast, hearing Liam’s distant voice. “Rich? Rich, you there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. I’ll - uh - I’ll come pick it up tomorrow.” Without another word Richie hangs up, his eyes locking onto Eddie again.

Throwing his phone and towel to the side, Richie jumps up, runs, jumps, and cannonballs into the pool, splashing Eddie.

When he comes up he hears Eddie half-yelling, half-laughing. “Rich! Oh my god! What the fuck!?”

“I have good news, babe.” He swims, pulling Eddie into his arms. The cool water does nothing to extinguish the heat between their naked bodies.

Wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck, Eddie says, “Oh yeah? Did Liam have some new news on your Emmy nominations?”

Richie shakes his head. “Nope! It’s way better than that.” 

“Better?”

“Yu- _p_ ,” Richie says, popping the p. “Bill & Audra are in for the holidays! It’s going to be a Losers Holiday Celebration! Isn’t that great, baby!?”

“What!? That’s amazing! It’s been forever since we’ve all been together for the holidays. Where are we going?”

“No fucking clue. I’m sure Bev or Stan will figure it out though.”

“Well, we’re not going _camping_. That’s for fucking sure.”

“Oh, I don’t know, honey. You would look so _cute_ in your hiking boots, all covered in bug spray-”

“Nope. Not happening.” Eddie bats at Richie’s chest.

“With your fishnet hat-” Gripping Eddie tightly by the waist, Richie slows his kicking, allowing his body to slowly sink into the water, pulling Eddie along with him.

“We’re not going anywhere for Christmas where I need a _fishnet hat_. Huh, Rich-” Eddie notices the water rising higher. “Rich!” Eddie’s laugh gets swallowed by water.

They sink slowly into the clear water; multicolored rays of sun slither through the water and across their bodies. Eddie relaxes in Richie’s arms, anchoring himself by wrapping his legs around Richie’s waist.

Cupping Eddie’s cheek he pulls him into a kiss. Eddie melts, molding his body to Richie’s.

It comes to him while he’s floating weightless, kissing Eddie - the _perfect_ way to propose. Going in for another kiss, a thought floats by in Richie’s mind.

**_I can’t wait for Christmas._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! When I first started writing It Was Always You I never thought I would write a six part series! I just love these two - and the rest of the Losers - so much! I want to give them their happy ending.
> 
> I know I say this every time, but I have plans to write more! I promise a Losers Christmas/Hanukkah celebration and a Richie style proposal so please subscribe to me as an author to get notifications. 
> 
> Also, please leave kudos and comments. Comments give me life!


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